


Words Unspoken

by Kira_Dattei



Series: Differing Words [1]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Compliant, Gap Filler, M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 82,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_Dattei/pseuds/Kira_Dattei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The death of his Dominus was but the first step in Nasir discovering who he is. He has survived serving Rome but now he must learn how to live while following Spartacus and share his heart with another.<br/>The death of his brother was not something Agron knew if he could survive. Yet he has found something new to live for through the Syrian whose life they spared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Place in This World

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Pairing: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating: M  
> Word Count: 8,026  
> Author's Note: First kudos to my beta Akinasky. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A name...

**Chapter 1: A Place in This World**

 

Upon moment shackle and collar had been placed about limbs, Tiberius had recognized that to live as Roman slave was to survive.

As he had been born to the harsher climes of Assyria, survival was a thing familiar to him and even at the young age he had been when brought to this new land he held no doubt of his success in adapting to such life. Through first year of standing as slave, the young Syrian had made discovery of all which would be sacrificed for his survival. For sake of life, many things were cast aside.

His first sacrifice had been his language, the tongue understood by none around him and so he was made to learn new words with great haste.

The next thing to be given was memory of his homeland, of the traditions and beliefs he had known with such familiarity. He had to learn of gods beyond count and meaning they held to those of whom place faith in them. He held no belief in these deities, yet he bore witness of the many ways in which they were used against others.

The last thing he had been made to sacrifice - and he despaired over this loss - was his name. While he had never broken words of his identity to any within these lands – his refusal to answer when asked was accepted with but a shrug of indifference and it was his first master who had called him Tiberius, claiming the beauty of his flowing hair was deserving of attention as naught else of his inadequate stature – it was still difficult to part with even the thought of the name he had been given at birth. It had been his and now he had no use for such a thing if he truly held desire to live.

In his hesitation to give up the one thing he held ownership of in his identity, “Tiberius” became more than the word the Romans called the Syrian slave boy. The word became as a shield in which to hide his heart and soul behind while mind became the guide in all his actions. Tiberius soon became as its own identity, one of cold nonchalance to all around him. While he maintained fair treatment of other slaves – the one part of his nature which could not be concealed in entirety – he made no attempt to form bond of any manner with those who shared his fate.

There stood only one to come into his life after years of slavery and serving his only Roman master who would not accept that he truly held no desire of friendship with any: Chadara. She was a favored slave to bed and she accepted this position and the protection it provided her absent words of discontent. When the Syrian had been sold to their master, eyes of Roman looked upon future and beheld beauty the small boy was likely to become and he knew lust to claim ownership of Syrian who would be envied by others of position. It was understood by all that only question of time remained of when the boy would be bedded. Chadara had possibly known enough of the dominus in that his attentions would not wane as he waited for the boy to gain in years, for as he grew she took action to see the Syrian remained well. Protecting him gave assurance of her own position and as he rose in prominence she would as well. Her first years of effort had been ignored with ease enough. Yet as the Syrian grew from child to youth and approached age of Roman man, purpose to be found in her actions appeared to alter. In place of making offer of skills and knowledge to better his value, she began merely breaking words of her thoughts. It was this which allowed Chadara to at last gain response from the Syrian and deep friendship found place between them.

As years had passed, Dominus had indeed began favoring the Syrian’s body when cock was of preference to Chadara or another cunt. However, the young slave had served his Dominus in other manner of running the villa where others had proved incompetent. When the Syrian reached the age of manhood in Roman eyes, he was elevated to position of body slave and ear was pierced with wooden stud to display status as branding was not preference to Dominus.

Taking Roman words and name as his own had been important in his survival, yet they were not what earned him position of prominence with Dominus. Truth of elevation lay in skill he could not break word of to any, a thing known to his family long lost: an ability possessed to know intentions and unspoken words of those around him. It was a thing he had made attempt to banish from himself yet had never known success. When he came to Rome, it had been his means of learning language foreign in finding manner of understanding what was desired of him and making connection to words broken. Once language was learned, he had again made attempt to strike words not of his mind from being heard yet never knew success until he began growing in favor of Dominus. The man had often made intention known after purchasing Tiberius that he held no desire to part with such possession yet it was only after many years which the Syrian truly gained proof sufficient to place belief upon claims and understood his path: Dominus was key to his survival. He saw how value to Dominus meant protection – Chadara’s favor was proof of such – and so gift became focused upon knowing every need and desire of Dominus. Once skill was harnessed to purpose, it was brought to command and Tiberius heard no words or intentions of any but Dominus.

As months passed serving desire of Dominus alone, Tiberius was trained in duties beyond that of mere house slave – he was trained to understand numbers, finances, inventory, position of Roman names within society, and responsibilities of all within the villa – which his quick mind absorbed all instruction and his elevation of position was granted.

Recognizing that other slaves might hold dark feelings for one so young to be granted coveted position, the Syrian made effort to keep all from fate of the mines and assigned tasks which were well suited to each person. Desire to assist others was recognized and respect was earned. Efforts were of great success, only failing once in keeping those he stood responsible for from cruel end.

Memory of that day haunted the Syrian and he was forever determined to never again fail in protecting those relying upon him to be kept safe from such undeserved fate.

Such desires appeared as though fated for failure as Spartacus and his rebels laid waste to villa.

Tiberius and Chadara were spared sight of attack as she provided pleasure for Dominus and he remained near to be of use if called upon. When commotion was heard and order given to retrieve Dominus’ robes, Tiberius was distracted by a thing he had never felt from the man who had kept him among the living for so many years: fear. The Roman was uncertain of his life and that feeling birthed the same uncertainty in the Syrian even as he moved to follow command. Chadara moved to replace her own clothing as room was invaded by men towering over Tiberius in height and muscle. Hands reached out to him and clamped about his arm to push him from the room with Chadara following behind to steady him before command was given them to go to villa entrance to receive instruction from Spartacus. The name caused further panic in Dominus and Tiberius struggled to maintain control of his own reaction.

When they came upon entrance, blood staining the walls around people gathered – ones unknown stood throughout the villa and fellow slaves were gathered in a small clutch in center of courtyard – Tiberius was parted from side of Dominus and lost all which gave him meaning in the world he had adapted to. He did find relief in realizing that all house slaved he had worked to protect were yet among the living and he moved to stand among them. He allowed his small stature to shield him from gaze of most unfamiliar men and women surrounding him as he finally became aware of a voice breaking words of freedom and choice.

Dominus’ voice shouting command to all slaves aided in bringing Tiberius’ mind to task and control lost from confusion was regained.

Control did not remain though as Dominus was pulled from courtyard and Tiberius could do naught but listen to the Roman’s increasing panic and need for aid. The constant calling for help brought pain to the Syrian’s head and he touched fingers to his temple in attempt to relieve sting until many minutes passed and his mind went silent.

His hand fell back to his side as he held realization his mind had never been absent words of others within it. Years of training had left his own mind absent unbidden thoughts. The silence was suffocating and unwelcome and brought about an unavoidable understanding: his means for survival was now dead.

He no longer knew what he was to do in order to survive.

“Your mind wanders,” Chadars’s whispered words called his attention and his eyes focused on the woman before him. While his fellow house slaves were still mostly gathered in the same area, they had spread out to sit and reflect upon what had just befallen their home. Tiberius had remained and was now even further parted from those he knew except for Chadara who yet stood at his side.

She looked toward the villa and followed the retreating form of the one Tiberius guessed to be Spartacus. The man stood with such authority that all about him responded to, however Tiberius could also recognize respect within gaze of all rebels who followed the man. In the stead of fear and submission as he was accustomed to seeing, he witnessed alone the desire to offer all that was to be had.

“The Bringer of Rain releases us from life as slave,” Chadara appeared to not break words for sake of gaining response, but was merely giving words to thoughts.

That he did voice response caused her to startle and turn gaze to him in shock, “He releases us from all we have,” his voice was quiet, reflecting of his unsettled mind. Such was sure to cause greater concern in Chadara as she had never heard such tone from him in the many years they had served together.

It also revealed to one already well versed in conversing with him his discontent in night’s events.

“Then new position must be found before opportunity passes.” Chadara walked away, her intentions to find one among the gladiators to offer her protection clear to Tiberius. The option did not appeal to the Syrian – hands of others upon his skin had never been favored, only tolerated by Romans for survival – and so he dismissed it as means of adapting to new situation.

Hearing crashes and calls of excitement from within villa, he made assumption that the gladiators were going through the villa’s supplies to celebrate their victory this night. Also assuming that the strong fighters would claim the comfort of the villa to take rest, he moved to gather blankets from stores for his fellow house slaves – freed men – to use that night.

He took the opportunity to observe those around him and what they did, utilizing his many years of servitude to notice mannerisms that separated the gladiators from other slaves. The sheer volume of activity surrounding him exceeded all he had ever experienced and it was only through years of training which allowed him to focus enough to take in names and positions of those within the rebellion.

He had yet to reveal his position as body slave to any within the rebellion and that allowed him opportunity to move about as another newly freed slave absent attention. He had already made request of Chadara to allow him to remain unknown, to which she agreed absent question.

Tiberius had taken notice of how liberated slaves turned to one called Mira, who appeared to have mind well attuned to keeping track of supplies and assigning tasks. She had already given task to Chadara that would have been better suited to Tiberius, but his friend had nodded acceptance absent delay and ensured he remain from Mira’s attention as was desired of him.

It seemed, however, as though he could not escape attention of all as he was approached while he was assisting those familiar to him in finding place to sleep by a gladiator he had identified as Tychos. The man looked over those just freed and called out to Tiberius and other men who stood in better health to follow behind him as he led them toward the villa. He indicated for them to step upon wooden planks bordering the building and they were lined up, causing memory to rise within Tiberius of when he had bore witness to slaves being placed on display for purchase. He was positioned at one end and he noticed Spartacus approach with another of the gladiators that Tiberius had seen always near rebel leader, though he did not know the man’s name.

Not knowing what was expected of him, the Syrian held his posture rigid and fixed his gaze straight ahead in position of one awaiting instruction. The other men beside him assumed similar position, obviously as uncertain of what to do as he was. He could hear discussion between the two approaching gladiators and took notice of how the unknown man was obviously in disagreement with Spartacus. That he was voicing such opinion so openly with rebel leader was a thing Tiberius could not understand.

His face was made as blank mask as he allowed his mind to pull from surroundings to work through confusion.

Did Spartacus not stand as master of this rebellion which had struck fear into Capua and its surrounding land? It was his name spoken in shaking voice by Romans after destruction of Batiatus’ ludus. Even in the short time since Tiberius had first laid gaze upon the man, he had commanded the people he lead with authority of Dominus. What meaning was held in that those he held command of spoke against him so brazenly?

Was this to do with the freedom he spoke of? It was a simple word, yet Spartacus said it with such emotion that response from deep within the Syrian was brought forth.

A sudden pull at his neck caused Tiberius to come off balance, a quick shift of his weight all which kept him from falling into Spartacus who now stood before him. Bringing his full attention to his surrounds, Tiberius made realization that Spartacus now held his collar within his grasp, having pulled the worn leather from the Syrian’s neck. Realization evoked thought that rebellion had taken yet another thing familiar from him.

Tiberius lifted his hand from his side to brush against sensitive skin now exposed without cover of slave collar. Such sensitivity was unfamiliar to the body slave and his discontent grew ever stronger toward this man before him who sought to lay claim to him under guise of granting freedom.

“Join your brothers and take up just cause,” Spartacus’ words reached the Syrian and he knew what was being commanded of him. Spartacus confirmed his thoughts with next words broken, “We will see the Romans bleed for taking us as dogs, to be yanked by the leash at their command.” He then called to two nearby gladiators and gave order for weapons to be placed in hand of the four standing before him.

Tiberius noticed displeasure upon expression of the gladiator standing behind Spartacus as gladius was held out for him to take.

As he looked down to weapon presented, an unexpected notion rose within him: refuse command.

When the grip of the gladius was pressed into skin of his stomach, his hand rose to take it on reflex and he held the unfamiliar thing within tight grasp. This was not a thing which should be touched by slave hands, he realized. Even his Syrian mind cried out that had he not been taken from his land, he was never born to be a warrior as his size and quick mind dictated. Yet this man, Spartacus, was placing weapon into such hands with orders to raise opposition against Rome absent thought that doing so meant death.

However, the Syrian was a survivor and his mind was already working to search out path that would allow him to continue living. To accept blade and battle would bring about his death as he knew not how to fight. To refuse would also bring about his death, either for refusing command given or by Roman hands for standing as slave to Dominus struck down by slave hands. Other skills he had gained through his life would not hold value with those such as Mira already within rebellion with such talent. Finally, the talent he had told no other of had remained silent since Dominus fell and would therefore not benefit him in gaining value with other masters.

So there stood no path before him absent his death, Tiberius concluded. Realization did not cause him despair as he held expectation of, but he was instead filled with somber acceptance that not all things could be survived and he had but found his limits.

However, the survivor in him retreated enough for him to decide that if death was all that stood before him, he would not waste away under command of Spartacus. He would embrace single thought he could claim as his own in many years: he would refuse to raise sword for rebellion. He would defy them and in doing so force Spartacus to distrust allowing him to live. He would strike out and see Spartacus subject him to Roman law.

This was his freedom: choosing his death.

He would fucking embrace it as rebel leader had asked of him.

* * *

Agron could not understand this fucking little man, regardless of attempt made to do so.

When Mira had first called on him the previous night with news that freed slave had made attempt on Spartacus’ life, Agron had not expected to be faced with the dark-skinned figure he now observed. He had taken notice of the slave when he had been presented as one able to bear sword, the man standing closest to him and his height and stature bringing question as to why he was thought able to be trained as warrior. He was well groomed, his ebony hair flowing down over dark-skinned shoulders, some pulled back in a twist at the back of his head. The cloth covering him at the hips was of better quality than those standing beside him. Such difference indicated favor from the Dominus, which Agron suspected was attributed to the boy’s obvious youth. He had probably seen no more than twenty years and to see one so young already so affected by Rome was cause for anger to rise.

Now as he looked upon the boy, each arm held by gladiator who towered above him, he was finding it difficult to match the slave he had seen earlier with the little man standing before him now with such fire in eyes and fight in body against those holding him. His dark eyes were alive with hatred as he silently observed Spartacus, Crixus, and Agron discussing his fate in answer to his assault.

A small measure of respect rose within Agron as the little man responded to being struck by Crixus by gazing directly into the Gaul’s eyes with unrestrained hatred for spilling his blood.

It was the next morning when they were to begin training newly freed slaves that Agron - still uncertain of Spartacus’ decision toward the dark-skinned man - decided to better understand his brother’s choice.

He approached Spartacus as the man watched those gathered and breaking words in hushed tone as they made preparation to train. The German moved to stand at his side, his eyes seeking out the little man and finding him breaking words with another slave freed the previous night, a woman with long flaxen hair who appeared distressed with subject discussed between them.

“I question fucking intent to train one who has already taken up sword against cause,” Agron spoke quietly.

Spartacus’ eyes turned to him briefly before laying on the boy in discussion. “I hold doubt he believed he would succeed in taking my life. When attempt failed, he told me I should kill him for his actions.” Spartacus took pause as he turned back to face Agron, who waited for his brother to continue. “He does not realize he had already stepped from beneath control of Rome. Others hold sword because we asked them to do so, yet he denied instruction of what may be envisioned as another master and made first choice.”

Agron sneered at revelation. “His choice was to die.”

“Not all men hold strength enough to choose path to their death. Even we fight so that our lives may continue toward greater end. I would see what other choices we may invoke in this one.” He paused again as he turned once more toward the little man, who now stood alone, his eyes keenly observing all occurring about him. “I would also know how one so young gained position held as body slave.”

That revelation brought Agron to pause. His belief that the boy had been merely favored by his master was an acknowledgement of his beauty and his smaller size would have appealed to many, yet to stand as body slave meant he held intellect. His mind also turned to their search for Naevia and what she had been made to endure because of her position and he wondered if Spartacus was also searching for such pains inflicted upon this one.

Now Spartacus trained with the boy and it was proving difficult task for Agron to keep his eyes from the pair. Before training had begun and instruction was given to all, Agron found it difficult to now believe blank expression and cold eyes he witnessed belonged upon same visage as the wild dog he had faced upon the previous night. While being addressed, the boy’s posture remained rigid though shoulders dropped in manner that made him appear even smaller and his eyes remained fixed straight ahead.

It was gaze and position of submission, Agron realized. As gladiator, he had never been given instruction to lower eyes in such manner except to Dominus as his purpose was to be likened to a god of battle, yet he had witnessed similar posture from Mira and Naevia while enslaved. This boy seemed to embrace vacant gaze in its entirety though and in doing so kept all at a distance. Even those from the same villa kept from approaching him for more than brief exchange of words.

Yet when he was called to begin training and Spartacus took position across from him, the little man gave evidence that such distant appearance held no meaning to actual state of mind. He had obviously absorbed all instruction given and responded to attack with constant adjustment to accuracy. As training progressed and Spartacus continued to give instruction to the boy, Agron noticed increasing moments of the fire he had witnessed upon previous night emerge once more.

There was particular moment of frustration from the boy when strike was evaded and followed by the sting of Spartacus’ blade across back that caught Agron’s attention. He looked over to witness the resentful gaze that had been directed at Crixus the previous night now set upon Spartacus himself. However, words the Thracian broke next caused such expression to fade and Agron witnessed the intelligence of the boy take command over his actions. Spartacus continued instruction through much of the day, the boy never calling for rest or water. Correction to form was given often – as the boy’s own words claimed his inexperience with holding weapon – yet the same advice was never required more than once and by training’s end he gripped sword with greater confidence.

The boy did indeed learn with haste and it was no of greater ease to believe that one of such young age became body slave.

However, once blade was removed from grasp and breathing was calmed, fire was once more suppressed and blank gaze again stared upon them. Spartacus passed Agron closely, indicating of him to follow so that next move of rebellion could be discussed. As they sought out Crixus, the Thracian broke words of his new opinion of the boy, “He fights war of his own. Slave mind battles to remain in control while fire of heart burns to be released from shackle.”

It was such observation which brought forth in Agron the urge to learn something of this boy by his own words. It was in answering such urge which guided the German later that night with drink in hand.

He was surprised upon approach to see the boy’s expression alive with anger aimed toward Spartacus and Agron held hope meaning of such was cause of defense about the boy’s mind failing against Spartacus’ tenacity.

“You press fortune, glaring so at the Slayer of Theokoles,” Agron broke words to announce approach, habit of never making approach unknown upon back deeply ingrained as a gladiator.

Response given was quick and cold, “His victory but proving even giants fall.”

It was harsh observation to have made, yet it spoke of a truth not many within rebellion seemed able to consider. Even Agron found the thought of Spartacus falling in battle amusing and he did not make attempt to keep chuckle from sounding. After all, it had been many weeks since anything had truly brought him amusement and he felt no desire to keep it from showing.

He reached out with one hand, presenting the cup he held to the little man, and dark eyes looked between his face and the offering quickly before reaching to accept it. The little man’s mind indeed worked swiftly and Agron realized how careful in approach he would require to hold success or opportunity would be lost.

He moved forward another step and dropped down to a crouch beside the other man, making attempt to minimize difference of height between them. “What name do you go by, little man,” There was brief flash of annoyance in the boy’s eyes as he turned to face Agron, but control was regained swiftly as he seemed to search for reason the gladiator held in making such request. “So I may properly mourn your passing.” He was aware that none within the rebellion had asked the boy of his name and hoped that gesture of doing so would give the former slave reason to relax guard.

“I am called Tiberius,” the response was given quickly enough, yet Agron found himself disappointed that answer given was that of a Roman name.

“Tiberius? You are far too dark to have such a fair Roman name.” He played the fool, as he knew it stood as common occurrence for slaves to be given names by their masters to better suit position, but the German followed opportunity to learn more of this young man.

“I am more Roman than Syrian.” This new revelation was of even greater disappointment to Agron as his mind turned to Ashur and all that fucking Syrian had done to bring pain and death to the ludus. It made him even less certain of Spartacus’ choice to train the boy to fight.

Certain that his deep hatred of Ashur was now reflected in his gaze, he turned away from Tiberius and looked to where Spartacus still stood with his eyes upon the pair. Agron took notice of satisfaction in his friend’s eyes and that gave him needed encouragement to continue breaking words so. He was, however, uncertain of how to proceed with what he had just learned and held no expectation that the other would give him more absent question given voice.

Feeling as though explanation of his reaction to the boy’s words may aid in gaining his trust, he spoke, “There was a Syrian at our ludus. A treacherous fuck if ever there breathed.” At the edge of his sight, he saw anger once again cross the expression of this Syrian as his jaw tightened briefly before control was once again recovered. “You had family there?” He watched as eyes became distant, yet in manner differing from what he had witnessed to this point in the young man and an emotion new to dark eyes appeared: sadness.

“I only recall a brother.”

Agron nodded as his thoughts turned to Duro and the loss he had yet learned to bear. Trying to keep his grief from claiming command over him, he pushed forward with remembering that intent held in breaking words was to form some manner of connection with the little man. Now such was presented though not as he had anticipated. Yet he admitted that he had never experienced a thing as strong as loss of blood kin and he yearned to hear of another having endured a thing. “I too had a brother.”

Dark eyes turned to him once more at revelation. “No longer?” the question was voiced softly with solemn inflection. The emotion displayed caused small measure of hope for this conversation bearing results despite pain Agron was now making attempt to push through.

Agron shook his head, the act as much to answer as to prevent memory from taking hold. “He was struck down by the Romans.”

Tiberius’ eyes darted downward quickly and it appeared as though the reminder of the Romans also reminded the former slave of his own position and all emotion was quickly banished from sight. When dark eyes again met Agron’s, there was no hint that the Syrian had stood anything but slave. “When you turned sword against them?”

Agron’s temper – always of ease to rise and even more so since the death of his brother – came to surface as he turned to look upon the fucking Syrian. He did not strike out as he desired though he would not stand capable of providing answer as to why he restrained himself so. Tiberius’ words gave insult to Duro’s sacrifice as none within rebellion – even Crixus – would dare to. Perhaps he held hope of maintaining some progress made with the boy. He even found himself able to smile, though it was absent humor and pained him to do so. “As you shall one day, if you hold any fucking sense.”

His control held limitation though so he stood and parted company from the little man without learning of response given to his words.

* * *

Deceiving guards was of no concern to Tiberius. He had known that morning when blade had once again been placed in hand and instruction given of its use that his desires still did not matter to any. Command was given and he would follow as he had done for most of his life. He settled into familiar pattern as day continued and when Spartacus called him and gave command to not give Romans cause to suspect presence of rebels he but nodded understanding and prepared reason for Dominus’ absence. Tiberius was keenly aware of Crixus’ disapproval of him being given such task, the Gaul’s distrust of him yet strong. The German – whose name Tiberius had learned to be Agron – did not reveal his thoughts upon plan, simply nodding and moving to take defensible position in stores. As for Spartacus, Tiberius could not determine if task was appointed to him to test his loyalty or for more practical reason.

Regardless of reason, he was to make attempt to keep rebels from engaging guards if not necessary and he held intention to see task to successful completion. For success meant survival and Tiberius would survive.

However it was not to be so as missing collar was noticed just as guard turned to depart. Realizing his error at once, Tiberius’ mind searched for explanation to cover his mistake but failed to discover solution except to break words which would bring rebels from hiding to strike down threat. Knowing rebels would not know his actions were not ones of betrayal, he held expectation of first blood drawn to be his own. He was unprepared for hand to take hold of his shoulder and pull him away from the guard and toward villa so he had no chance to catch his balance and fell backward as battle erupted around him.

Tiberius recovered position enough to support weight on the balls of his feet and hands, crouched low in attempt to remain from notice while allowing him to move quickly should need arise. His eyes swept over fight taking place – one he had caused – before coming to rest on the ground before him.

A gladius from fallen guard lay within reach.

Spartacus’ words from previous night came forth in mind: he was presented choice of submitting to Rome or bearing arms against them. His first response to such choice had been reflection of his belief that one such as him held no more value in this new world. He had cowered in the face of choice in attempt to cling to the familiar, dictated by Dominus. A man now gone to the afterlife and his voice forever silent from Tiberius’ mind…

A silence that had yet to be filled by another, leaving only thoughts suppressed through years of servitude: those of a Syrian who had done all to preserve self behind mask of Roman name. Mask that was no longer needed if Spartacus and those who followed him were to be given trust.

Eyes rose from beckon of blade to take in state of fight once more, coming to rest on the aggressive form of Agron. The gladiator had been the only one – with exception of Chadara long ago – who would not accept his silence. He alone had asked the slave of his name. He had made attempt to learn more of the body slave than any others that had come to the villa…ever.

Punch landing strike upon Agron’s face and bringing forth blood from mouth brought Tiberius’ attention to focus as he realized that such strike bore strength enough to force the German from balance and Roman gained opportunity to end his life. Though in looking beyond Agron, Tiberius realized another target to be revealed: Spartacus’ back was presented as he disposed of his own opponent. The guard – Tiberius recognized him as the one he had broken words with – moved to strike fatal blow.

Was Tiberius worth keeping alive? Did his life truly bear meaning now Dominus was gone from this world? Did he deserve to draw breath while one who spared him fell?

Hands moved to purpose, decision made from beyond Tiberius’ control. Legs pushed him to action and his hand took hold of sword, gripping hilt as Spartacus had instructed, and he thrust blade through back of Roman guard before strike against rebel leader could land. Body fell to death, revealing Spartacus’ shocked expression as he looked between fallen guard and former body slave. The Syrian’s face remained blank as he considered what action to take next.

One side of Spartacus’ mouth turned upward and an expression of pride – a look unfamiliar to the former slave – passed his gaze. Before response could take form, hand closed tightly about the smaller man’s throat and sensitivity of the skin caused panic to rise. His back was forced against pillar of the villa and dark eyes looked to face Crixus’ rage.

The Syrian struggled to regain control of panic as Crixus argued with Spartacus over purpose of his actions and yet another choice was presented: allow Crixus to take his life for betrayal as he had desired upon previous night or reveal truth which would shore commitment to freedom.

Choice was made as quickly as it had been presented: “His eyes fell to my neck. He saw the absence of my collar. If I had not invited him in, he would have returned with more men.” Had such occurred, the rebellion would have fallen and the Syrian did not desire for such to occur, even if it was only now that his feelings stood so.

Crixus’ grip on his neck loosened at his words then released him, relief flooding the smaller man as the threat – as well as undesired touch – passed. He had never found satisfaction at touch upon him and would never again allow such a thing absent his permission. His eyes burned with his displeasure as he locked gaze with the Gaul, who had stepped away yet appeared baffled at such expression from one so recently absent emotion.

Spartacus approached and extended hand to touch in attempt to gain his attention, but dark eyes turned to him before contact was made and the smaller man moved his arm away to further ensure touch did not land. “You did well, Tiberius,” he gave compliment many different actions in those few words, but the Syrian only heard Roman name.

Tiberius had been born of the Syrian’s desire to survive and had taken form beneath rule of his master. He had lived to serve desires of men who held no concern for his fate past how it gave them benefit. They held no thought to the man behind name inflicted upon him. Name had become the Syrian’s identity, yet true purpose was that of a shield of one no longer in need of protection.

It was the one protected who had chosen death the previous night, one who could now come forth and reclaim life. Tiberius could pass from this world alongside the Roman master he had dedicated all to.

“Nasir,” the name held no familiarity, having not been spoken or deeply considered for years beyond count, yet the Syrian could not avoid speaking it in the accent of language he had turned from. Spartacus looked back to him in confusion, but the Syrian focused beyond the man to lock gaze with Agron – the one who had reached out to him and reminded him that Tiberius had not been the only one to protect him. There had been one who had given all upon distant lands to keep the Syrian alive many years past. “My brother called me Nasir.”

Agron remained silent yet nodded his acceptance of what the Syrian was offering: a gesture of friendship.

He could not yet claim the name to be his own – Nasir had only just been given life one more and the Syrian did not know what form of a man would take shape – but he could not deny anticipation beating along with his heart for the first time since collar had taken hold upon his life.

* * *

Villa had fallen to silence once Roman bodies had been stripped and disposed of. The day had been long and eventful for many – especially newly freed slaves who were unaccustomed to such activity – and rest had been the only desire upon mind. Even a great number of gladiators took to bed to prepare for next day’s coming, where they were to depart for the next villa in search of missing woman, Naevia.

The Syrian former body slave was tired as well, yet mind could not find peace enough to take to sleep. Once many had settled within the villa, he had moved to the entry where he had conversed with the guard he had struck down and found his thoughts unsettled by question of what he was now to do. While he had taken life of the guard with haste and ease in moment passed, he held no confidence of standing capable of such a feat again. Was he truly best used as warrior when his mind had been so well honed to use in other matters? His mind had also remained silent of unspoken words and while he held confidence in his skill of observation of others, he had grown to rely upon what he alone heard and would struggle for some time to adapt to action absent such aid.

Silence within mind alone was unsettling as it was a thing which had been with him since birth. Such gift had been of great assistance to him in proving worth to Dominus, yet now that position was unknown, he stood abandoned by the one thing he had always claimed as his own.

Thoughts brought forth sigh of frustration as he made attempt to calm racing mind: Nasir was proving to be a confused man absent control of the one who had earned position of body slave by his fifteenth year. Perhaps Tiberius had been discarded with too great of haste and should remain as shield until Nasir had opportunity to take shape in such dangerous life.

“Do you take guard of us so soon, little man?” familiar voice called out to him from within the villa. Steps approached him and the Syrian’s body tensed slightly as the warmth of Agron’s body settled at his side. That he straightened back and clasped his hands together before him now that another’s eyes were upon him was action born of habit practiced over many years.

“Sleep would not come,” he gave simple answer. “What of you?”

Agron leaned back, bracing weight on his hands resting behind him. The Syrian took notice that the gladiator had cleansed all blood from fight from his body, leaving his tanned skin clean.

The former body slave took opportunity to take in details of the German and he found himself in admiration of the man’s appearance. His body was solidly built, shoulders broad and strong and towering over Nasir even seated as they were. His hair was shorn short roughly and piercing green eyes looked about their surrounds at all times as though to ensure safety. Yet it was in his eyes that the Syrian saw the pain Agron had broken words of concerning his brother’s death and it became obvious that the man struggled in that he drew breath while his kin had fallen.

Beyond the pain was a myriad of emotion, the man was apparently an expressive individual unaccustomed to restraint of action. Such great contrast to the former body slave’s withdrawn nature was of deep interest to the Syrian and he held wonder at how friendship could take form between two with such difference between them.

“Painful memories come to me in sleep. Once upon me, it is difficult to remove from fucking mind.”

That Agron’s voice held such pain and frustration brought forth regret within the Syrian’s mind as he recalled words broken in answer to learning of the gladiator’s loss. “Apologies for words spoken against memory of brother,” words came forth before consideration could be had of why it was of such sudden importance to make amends with Agron.

The German appeared to have held no expectation for such response either as he simply stared back at the smaller man for a few moments. When response was made, it took form as the spread of a grin across his face, the expression bringing such life to the man’s demeanor.

“Posture and folded hands implied regret of actions against the fucking Romans, yet you speak of guilt for harsh words broken to one who stands as stranger. You are certainly not the man one expects, Nasir.”

To hear another speak given name was as unusual as it had been for him to reveal it, yet the Syrian was satisfied regardless. To once more hear name given him by loving family instead of commanding master aided his struggling mind in finding calm, therefore allowing him to know some measure of confidence in choice to lay Tiberius to rest.

“Pain from words may yet remain while Roman lays dead. Apology to him would be wasted effort,” the Syrian gave reply, his lips lifting slightly in response to Agron’s amusement, which had erupted into a low chuckle at Nasir’s words. The man’s open emotions were difficult to ignore though the Syrian held growing certainty that he did not desire to deny humor as he had for many years.

He became aware of Agron’s attention upon him increase but the man did not voice response and the Syrian felt as though further explanation may be necessary for understanding. “I understand now what your brother gave his life for and would not have memory shattered by words broken absent concern.”

Agron continued his observation of the Syrian, though it was unclear as to what he was searching for. Uncertainty brought forth yet another habit and the former body slave’s expression fell into a vacant gaze.

“How do you manage such a thing?” the gladiator questioned mere moments later, his voice somewhat bewildered.

“What do you speak of?” the Syrian’s tone was as blank as his expression, betraying nothing of his emotions until he held better understanding of what Agron found so curious.

“Eyes as dull as the ground we stand upon and voice so empty of emotion words may have been broken by the dead.” The manner of the description disturbed Nasir. “I have never before encountered one who keeps such guard raised while among allies.”

Dark eyes turned to Agron and gazes locked briefly, only for the Syrian to quickly turn again toward villa entrance. “Tiberius called none his ally,” Nasir revealed quietly. He could feel Agron’s confusion at his words but the gladiator again remained silent, possibly in attempt to give the Syrian opportunity to reveal more absent further question. “Life lived under Roman name was one of survival. Such a thing is easier accomplished if attention is not distracted by unnecessary attachment.”

“You consider bonds with others to be unnecessary?” Agron requested clarity.

“Tiberius believed it to be so. I stand uncertain.”

“Your words bear less sense with each fucking moment passed.”

The Syrian considered dismissing conversation at Agron’s lack of understanding, yet he still felt the urge to hold bond with this man and so continued explanation of how he had known success in surviving to this day. “You carry shield made of steel and wield it with greatest accuracy to stave off harm. Shield I carry is one of my own creation, given form in Tiberius. Protection provided was defense of Syrian mind and heart by taking all harm inflicted upon flesh.” Dark eyes turned to Agron once again as the man shifted his position to straighten posture. His expression was drawn and jaw was clenched in obvious struggle to suppress angry reaction, though the Syrian did not understand what had given cause for such response.

“You made choice to discard such protection for freedom. What shall guard you now?”

Anger rose within him with such intensity that it could only be Nasir coming forth for Tiberius only survived and existed as he had because of foundation of skills possessed and learned by Nasir. The Syrian was not one absent fucking strength and would not be treated so.

“I would not see you fall before new shield is found.” Anger faded as the Syrian was again uncertain of Agron’s meaning. The man was proving difficult to hold conversation with. “I would see fire in eyes burn all who oppose you. Yet path to such strength is long and I would lend aid.”

The Syrian hesitated before surrendering to curiosity toward Agron’s desire. “I heard words broken to Spartacus. You hold belief that house slaves are of no value with sword in hand.”

Agron raised his hand and touched dark skin at side of neck where skin was yet discolored and sensitive from years of collar pressing into flesh. Feeling the initial displeasure at being touched, the Syrian began motion of pulling away yet managed to halt action. Such contact seemed to come naturally to Agron – and many of the gladiators – and malice found when such action was taken by Roman was absent.

“Perhaps you may prove me wrong, little man.” The hand withdrew and lowered to rest upon Agron’s thigh as the two fell to silence for many moments.

Silence gave the Syrian opportunity to consider what had just been offered to him. Agron wished to see the Syrian continue to train with weapon. He held desire for him to fight back against Rome by taking command of what strength in him had emerged when he had made attempt on Spartacus. And he stood willing to act in the smaller man’s defense if needed. Agron made choice to offer these things to him and the Syrian would not deny the man such action as long as more than he was willing to give was not desired.

Relaxing his rigid posture, the Syrian’s hands touched the ground behind him and he leaned his weight back – similar to how Agron had been positioned earlier – allowing his spine to curve in relaxation. His gaze rose to look upon the sky and he breathed deeply. “To speak name given to me at birth stands as the first time since coming to this land and you are the first to call me such. I admit it does not yet seem to be my own.” Agron was again watching him with care, green eyes soft with many emotions. “I would hear it again until time comes when I may claim the name as my own and know of whom I have given introduction.”

A wide smile spread across Agron’s face at the Syrian’s words. “And I shall be there to give such a man proper fucking greeting.”

Nasir’s face relaxed into a small smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was reading through this story with a little more experienced eyes of writing in this language style, I found quite a bit to improve so that's what I've done. Though the last scene has a somewhat significant factor that I'd originally intended to have but didn't do and now have: Nasir doesn't identify by that name until the last line. It was a way of showing that just because he told his name didn't mean it was automatically ingrained in him that that's who he is. That's a struggle I work with a lot so it deserved the amount of subtler attention I intended to give it.  
> Thanks for reading and continue to enjoy!


	2. The Greater Good part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The freed Syrian continues to find identity between Tiberius and Nasir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Pairing Agron/Nasir  
> Chapter Word Count: 8,512  
> Beta: AkinaSky  
> A/N: Thank you so much for the comments and kudos. I appreciate every single one of them. This chapter was split up for length purposes as you'll see from where I had to split it. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 2: The Greater Good pt. 1**

 

Two weeks had passed since Nasir embraced cause of rebellion and freedom, the new life holding many changes for him to make adjustment for. Three more villas had been taken in search of news of Naevia and their numbers continued to grow at steady pace.

Their latest camp was an abandoned villa they found early one day and were working to cleanse enough to settle into for the next day before setting off again to the next target.  As he did every night new accommodations were secured, the Syrian sought out a secluded corner away from all others in which to take rest. It was not distrust that gave him cause to seek out solitude, but continued silence of mind was desired and time removed from company of others aided him.

He held certainty that others felt suspicion toward his reasoning but none approached him to break words on the subject. Spartacus and Mira’s eyes had followed him at the previous camp and he held expectation of Agron voicing question towards his solitude at any time during one of many conversations he held with the man.

Nasir had to give acknowledgement that those three stood as most belligerent in seeing him find new bonds within this world of strangers. Mira sought him out often to assist her in maintaining supplies – his mind remembered numbers at better accuracy than hers from more years at doing so for a Dominus of prominence. He, in return, gave instruction to better methods of taking inventory when written ledger – as she was accustomed to – was not available to assist in task. Spartacus maintained regular training with Nasir, usually taking many hours each morning to drill techniques, then would pair another gladiator with him to repeat lesson in practice for many more hours while allowing the Thracian to lead their people.

As for Agron, the German sought him out at nearly every meal – only missing such when Spartacus called his attention for sake of being in prominent position within rebellion – and shared food and conversation. Nasir had been uncomfortable – also somewhat suspicious – of such attention at first because he did not understand the purpose behind action. When he was finally able to form words to question Agron, the man had laughed and told him all that was required of him was company. If such was not desired, all that was needed for it to end was to break words asking such.

…Such an easy task in thought, giving voice to desire. Yet the Syrian was finding practice of this to hold many obstacles within self to overcome.

Agron, ever aware of Nasir, seemed to have realized such difficulty within the little man as the next day he began directly questioning the Syrian in manner that required response of opinion or desire. Questions were easy enough to find answer for, yet Nasir realized Agron’s purpose to be in showing the importance of having thoughts that were owned instead of passed on. The action was soon repeated by Mira and Spartacus and combined effort of different sources built the idea quickly within Nasir that no choice was unimportant as long as it stood as his own.

Finally finding a corner far enough removed that no other rebel had yet to settle there, Nasir set his bedroll down on the floor and spread it out. It was still early in the day and he could hear the increase of activity echo through the villa. He had intended to take some rest while no other tasks were required of him, yet it seemed none would be found with such great amount of movement nearby. Years as body slave made him easy to rise from slumber, but he also found his mind plagued of late. Memories deeply buried and ignored as Tiberius had risen and he was now forced to accept the things done to him while in service to Rome. Nights of celebration were the most difficult to bear as he would be made to remember parties too numerous to count where he had been subjected to lust of Romans. His position of body slave only protected him until profit was to be had for his Dominus.

Tiberius had never held illusion that Dominus had found value in his appearance and he had memories to prove such a thing.

…It seemed that dark thoughts were already taking hold of mind and he had not even fell to sleep and Nasir felt frustration build within him. Perhaps he should seek out Chadara and allow the woman to give distraction as she had become skilled at in their years of knowing each other. No other knew just how much their Dominus had used his body slave and she understood how he was differently affected because of his dislike of touch upon him.

Approaching footsteps made Nasir tense – his thoughts setting nerve on edge – but he relaxed quickly when Mira came into view and laid eyes upon him with a smile. She continued to approach until she stood where his bedroll ended and moved to sit there with back upon wall. “Midday meal is nearly prepared. You should be near to ensure gladiators do not eat all and leave you hungry,” Mira began conversation easily enough, though this was the first time she had sought him out without specific task being given.

Nasir had not intended to take meal – his smaller size and years as slave left him with less appetite than most and a skipped meal would not be noticed – as supplies were beginning to deplete with greater numbers among them. “Let those who take up arms enjoy meal,” he responded smoothly. Mira watched him carefully, seeming to search for hidden meaning behind words, a thing Nasir noticed she was skilled at.

Nodding her acceptance of his choice, Mira continued, “Then I shall take opportunity to break words in privacy difficult to find within camp.” Her eyes moved to take in their surroundings quickly before returning to him with a hint of amusement now within them. “Though you seem to possess hidden talent in finding such a thing.”

“Mind finds clarity in silence,” the statement held layers of truth that Mira was sure to have noticed but chose not to question.

“And I have intruded upon such a moment. Apologies,” her weight shifted to stand, but stopped as a thing unknown to the Syrian seemed to occur to her and she looked to him in expectation. Nasir realized immediately that she was awaiting him to give voice of desire for her to remain or leave.

“You may remain. Solitude may not be of aid at present.” Nasir felt memories of pain linger in his thoughts and he suspected shadow would take hold once again if left alone.

Mira nodded and relaxed into the wall behind her again, her eyes observing him carefully. Silence remained between the two for many moments before Mira spoke. “I stood in service to the House of Batiatus for many years. I was asked to do much I did not care to, yet in being one of many house slaves I believe I was spared much that was asked of single body slave. Naevia suffered much in the secrets she was made to keep for Lucretia.” Nasir could not bear to keep his eyes locked with Mira’s and lowered his gaze to the bedroll beneath him. “What you must have been asked to do by your Dominus in your life for your eyes to remain so trained to lower.”

Mira’s hand reached out for him, intent on lifting his face and gaze in friendly gesture, but he saw movement before contact was made and he pulled away enough to convey his desire to not be touched so. Her hand ceased to approach him, but there was hesitation in her to pull away. Nasir’s eyes turned back to her and his gaze was hardened in communicating that he was certain in his desire not to be touched, no matter the good intention she held behind act. When she saw the stubborn set of his expression, she lowered her hand and the Syrian watched as some measure of her confidence faltered at such obvious refusal of the connection she had offered.

His gaze remained strong as he spoke, “My Dominus is gone from this world and his desires shall never again be forced upon me.” Her loss of confidence appeared to continue to affect Mira as she was uncertain as to how to respond to such passionate words. Such reaction confused Nasir as he had quickly become known to all within the rebellion to be a fierce man when needed. She had even been encouraging him to show this aspect of his personality with greater regularity.

Mira appeared to remember as much as her expression changed and her posture relaxed further against the wall.

“I would hold pity for any man that made attempt to do such a thing again, yet I find myself unable to extend such emotion toward any Roman,” she spoke with a slight grin. Such expression faded quickly and she turned to him with an emotion he was not certain of how to handle: guilt. “Apology was given not for intrusion alone, but for questioning the purpose to your search for solitude. Many within the camp have suffered for secrets, and though you have been among us for many days now, you yet remain a mystery. So many only know you for attempting to rob Spartacus of his life and do not believe you yet desire a place amongst us.”

Nasir fought the desire to lower his gaze again at being focused upon so. “Being unknown to those around me is a thing I am familiar with. Bonds are difficult to accept when life is not your own.”

Mira was certain to understand his meaning. “Yet now life is yours and you are free to accept the friendships being offered to you. Chadara need not stand as your only confidant.” Nasir knew Chadara often broke words with Mira and suspected that his friend had been questioned concerning him. He also held certainty that she would not reveal anything of him unless he had given permission to do so; such was the trust between them. “Know that I hold no concern over how you choose to spend your days among us. You are a free man.”

Mira gave one last smile and moved to stand when Nasir spoke again, his voice somber and absent his previous fire. “I remember arrangements being made for Naevia to be brought to the villa,” his words were quiet and distant and brought Mira’s eyes to him in shock. “I did not lay eyes upon her, but I was present when my Dominus received messenger from Batiatus giving offer of gift in exchange for his support in rising in office. I did not know gift sent was a woman until I heard Crixus questioning another Roman many days past.” It had in truth only been just before they had discovered this villa that he had learned of Naevia, for not many beside those close to Crixus knew the true purpose of the path they travelled. Any that held knowledge would not have told him so for reason Mira gave voice to just moments past: he was not trusted.

Nasir’s stomach was churning now, both at the fact that he had aided his Dominus in the torture of the woman Crixus searched for so desperately and the sorrowful look Mira now gazed upon him with. It was obvious she realized that he placed blame upon himself for following command and how it had affected a woman he had not known existed until recently.

“You have not broken words of this with any?” Mira asked with hesitation. Nasir was surprised at the question, for Crixus’ reaction to such revelation would have echoed through all of Rome. The Gaul’s great dislike of the Syrian would have only strengthened his anger.

“I have not. I was not told where my Dominus sent her once finished and so held no knowledge to be of aid to Crixus. I did not wish to cause aching heart more grief.” Mira nodded in response, though continued to observe Nasir carefully. Nasir took advantage of the silence to make attempt to bring his rampant emotions back within his control.

The woman continued to observe him and sighed deeply once he turned back to her, his eyes absent the turmoil he had just experienced. “How many secrets does your slave mask conceal?”

“As many as were required of me.”

About to respond, Mira was interrupted by the call of Nasir’s name by Agron as he turned corner and approached. She looked back to the Syrian and noticed how any remaining errant emotions were brought under control, and any shadows of dark thoughts were now gone. She looked to Agron and a smile spread across her face, gaining suspicion of both Agron and Nasir.

“You find fucking amusement with me?” Agron accused, though the anger was not genuine.

“I am merely relieved that your presence provides such balm where it is so greatly needed.” Nasir met Agron’s green eyes and shook his head slightly so as to encourage the German to dismiss his desire to further question the woman. After all, Nasir had accepted the bond that was developing between the two of them and for another to recognize it as well was not a thing to raise argument over.

Accepting Nasir’s requesting gaze to dismiss Mira’s words, Agron moved to sit on the bedroll beside the Syrian, placing his body close enough to the smaller man that their arms and legs made slight contact upon movement. He handed over a small bundle of dried fruits to the Syrian, who looked between the offering and Agron’s face. “You did not partake in the morning meal. We had adequate supplies and you have no weight to spare in skipping meals.” Agron finished with a wide grin to oppose the frown Nasir was looking upon him with.

“I hold no choice in how I live?” Nasir challenged and Mira’s grin returned at how easily Nasir spoke against Agron telling him what to do.

“You led all to believe Nasir held difficulty voicing opposition. It appears he has learned how,” Mira spoke her growing amusement.

Agron’s smile only grew at both former slaves’ words. “Choice is always yours, yet I would encourage correct ones be made in regards to your health. Consider that your body is working harder now to bear weapon and strength must be nourished.”

Nasir clung to his retaliation for a short moment longer before turning away and lowering his eyes. “Stomach churns at dark thoughts,” he admitted quietly, his previous sadness again rising to the surface. It was apparent to the other two with him how deeply he was affected by guilt over knowing how his master had been among many to cause Naevia great harm.

Agron reacted smoothly and reached out his hand to grip Nasir’s chin and coaxed dark eyes to rise with gentle pressure. “Then keep it until mind finds more pleasing thoughts to focus upon.” Giving another wide grin, Agron moved his hand from the Syrian’s chin to grasp his forearm and moved to stand while pulling the smaller man to his feet after him. “Come, I would see the measure of your training before we move against the slaver cart Donar sighted upon road.”

Nasir’s lips lifted slightly in a small smile as Agron pulled him away, anxious to test his skills against the gladiator who had to this point only observed his training the past few days.

 

* * *

 

 

Nasir’s eyes darted between Agron’s bright green eyes and his hands. He stood before him holding a gladius in one hand and a knife in the other, offering both to the former body slave. The two stared at each other silently for another brief moment before Agron simply pushed the weapons into smaller hands. Grasping the hilts of both weapons reflexively, Nasir felt the weight – a feeling of increasing familiarity – and how both fit his grip, shifting the knife slightly so he held it correctly.

Agron was amused by Nasir’s hesitation and guessed his confusion lay in that he had up until now been given sword and shield to train with.

“Shield is only to be used as a training tool for you until skill and strength increase. These are weapons you are to carry at all times. I have asked Chadara to fashion sheath for you, which shall be prepared when we take leave,” Agron explained his reasoning.

Nasir nodded his understanding and acceptance and slid the knife into the belt around his hips, ensuring that its position would not affect his movement. As he raised the gladius to a ready position, he could not help but feel the exposure of his body without the shield to protect him. “You now have an empty hand to aid you in battle. Do not hesitate in striking or drawing knife if opening is presented. I have seen the speed you are capable of and such skill will be to your benefit when facing an opponent of greater strength.” Nasir noticed the amused grin and anticipated the teasing words before they were even spoken. “Which should count for all you raise sword against, little man.”

Despite anticipating the barb, Nasir felt his temper rise though did nothing to calm himself as he swung for the gladiator. Agron stepped aside from the strike and drew the gladius secured at his hip in a single smooth motion as Nasir stepped into his strike to balance his action. Such a step allowed him to flow directly into another strike and the clash of steel echoed through the square they had designated for training.

The Syrian was becoming accustomed to the act of fighting. His mind focused completely on the task of striking a true blow on his opponent while not being struck in return. Each session of training required less thought as his body began to remember the motions of wielding a weapon. The more his body remembered, the more his mind was freed to take in his surroundings. He could be more aware of others training and observing and those who simply moved about them completing various tasks.

Watching the angle of Agron’s shoulders carefully, he stepped to the right and twisted his torso slightly to allow the swinging blade to pass by him, then brought his own blade to it to knock it further away and off balance the large man. He shifted the angle of his grip and brought the grip of his gladius toward Agron’s head. Seeing Nasir’s intent, Agron quickly ducked down under the swing and Nasir had to take another step forward to keep from falling forward with the momentum of his attack. He turned to face the German again quickly, knowing the man would take advantage of his weak position if given opportunity.

_Fucking Syrian…_

The words echoed clearly through his mind as though they were yelled directly into ear by hateful voice. Nasir was caught off-guard at such intensity that he stumbled in his movement and fell to his knees. His head immediately began to pound and he brought his left hand to press fingers into his temple in attempt to relieve the pressure building behind his eyes. When that was not sufficient, he dropped the sword from his other hand and covered his eyes, which eased the pain enough that he could focus on identifying the source of the words. He looked to the entry of the villa and saw Crixus staring at him, his expression mostly blank. Yet Nasir – as a skilled body slave – was well adapted to recognizing negative emotions: Crixus’ eyes displayed a deep dislike for him.

“Nasir?” Agron’s voice was confused and concerned as he kneeled down in front of the Syrian.

His attention returned to the man he had been sparring with, Nasir realized how abrupt his reaction to hearing unspoken words once again had been. He could not recall the last time he had heard any other’s thoughts and desires other than his Dominus’. The years that had passed since he had gained control over his talent had caused him to forget so much about it. He had failed to remember that lack of control allowed thoughts from all around him to enter his mind so that his own mind was overwhelmed. The stronger the thought, the greater the pain Nasir would endure for knowing of things that he should not. Crixus’ words had been full of spite and it had been directed at him, increasing his pain and he knew he would have been incapable of reacting any differently.

Taking a deep breath to calm his mind and heart, Nasir looked up to meet green eyes. “Apologies,” he managed to speak quietly, his throbbing head making it difficult to speak any louder. “Head spins from such exertions. Missing meals as I have inflicts more damage than anticipated.” Agron did not look as though he believed Nasir’s words, but he did not question him further. He returned his gladius to sheath and reached out to assist Nasir to stand. The Syrian glanced over to Crixus, seeing that the man was still watching him though he now appeared confused as to what he had witnessed.

Agron leaned over and picked up Nasir’s dropped sword and handed it back to him again. “Take rest and food until we take our leave. I would yet have you raise sword against Roman shits this day as planned.” Nasir nodded, the motion small in an attempt to keep the pain in his head from increasing again. It had subsided nearly enough that the Syrian could ignore it, the skill of dismissing pain one he had developed soon after becoming a slave.

Walking through the halls of the villa, Nasir returned to his bedroll and stretched out upon his back and covered his face with his arm to block out any light. The silence he was surrounded with allowed the throbbing within his head to fade.

It also provided him opportunity to consider what had finally allowed others’ words to penetrate his mind once again. He had known such relief when he had awoken one day to the realization that no undesired voices were distracting him from the one that mattered to his survival. His gift had caused him suffering for so long that to be without had seemed to him a freedom – the only he believed he would ever experience.

Yet now that he was given true freedom, he was to be captured by his gift once more?

To hear words unspoken had never seemed as a gift to Nasir. Such a word had been used by his brother – one of the few things he remembered of the boy who shared his blood – when he had revealed such ability when he was too young to understand the value of secrecy. The talent had been a gift from the gods and so would be of great value to whomever Nasir chose to lay loyalty in.

Yet Nasir held no belief in gods after the life he had endured so his brother’s claims had been dismissed.

Only now, Nasir had sworn true loyalty to Spartacus and his cause, a thing he had never done before. Even Tiberius had never placed honor in his Dominus, for the man’s prominence to the Syrian lasted only as long as he held ownership.

Had his brother held greater understanding than Nasir believed? Had Nasir’s choice to dedicate life to Spartacus’ cause been the spark needed to ignite his gift once again? Was he to use such talents again, but for purpose greater than his own survival?

Agron’s words to him from many days past came to mind, of the man’s declaration that he held anticipation for meeting the man Nasir was as opposed to Tiberius. Such memory seemed to ease difficulty of decision so much that Nasir held brief concern if he was placing power in Agron’s opinion that too closely reflected what he desired from his Dominus. He dismissed his concern just as swiftly with the realization that his decision was not made upon the words alone, but the message within them: Nasir would become his own man.

Nasir was a man gifted, and he would see brother’s beliefs in such gifts honored.

The Syrian relaxed – the pain within head fading gradually until it had passed completely – until he heard movement within the villa that suggested the gladiators were preparing to take leave as planned. He stood, stretching his body out to loosen muscles. He took gladius he had been given in hand and walked from his secluded corner within the villa toward the courtyard where all were gathering.

As he walked into the small clearing, Chadara approached him and handed him a bundle of leather and cloth, which he slid his sword into and placed the sheath over his left shoulder so that it hung across his chest and over his right hip. The size was accurate and it fit him in a secure manner that would not come loose in movement. He was not surprised, for Chadara had dressed him often enough over the years – and he had done the same for her – that she knew how to fit cloth to his form.

“Gratitude,” he spoke in low tones, as was the norm for him while among a crowd.

“Do not die out there, you foolish boy,” she replied with a smile, but Nasir heard the sincerity in her voice. She did not agree with him taking up the sword and was even less supportive of him joining in this attack so soon after starting his training. He had made attempt to calm her anxiety by making point that he had not made request, but had been asked to join by Spartacus. Their leader would not have asked such of him if he did not believe Nasir prepared enough to not be struck down.

“You are familiar with the quality of guards for slave wagons. These are not Roman soldiers we move to attack, but men with barely more training than I.” Chadara gave him a true smile at his words, then reached to him and grasped his hand briefly. She had always accepted his dislike of touch being placed upon him and so only used it when she felt words were not sufficient. He gave her a small smile in a final attempt at comfort before Spartacus called for the attention of all moving to attack the cart, giving final instruction before they took to path.

Nasir remained near Agron as they travelled the short distance to the path the cart travelled upon, the German being the only one among the gladiators he held any real trust with. Because the villa they had found to make camp within for the night was so near, it took barely any time for sounds of the cart and horses to reach the rebels. They all gathered together, watching the cart and guards approaching from a nearby rise in the path. It was in this time of observation that Nasir realized he recognized the man in charge of the transport. His first instinct – one which reflected Tiberius – was to ignore knowledge, but then his eyes turned to lie upon Crixus and he was reminded of the true intent behind attacking a wagon filled with slaves. His knowledge may hold value and he would see it put to use. He moved to where Spartacus kneeled nearby – body moving silently in the crouch he was positioned – and touched the man’s arm briefly to gain his attention.

“Man atop the cart is slaver Ferox. He sees slaves to the mines from villas surrounding Capua and Neapolis,” he whispered to the Thracian. Spartacus nodded his acceptance of the information and grasped Nasir’s arm briefly in gratitude for sharing his knowledge. He turned to the other gladiators behind them and gave signal for them to move forward.

Nasir moved to follow but Spartacus reached out and grasped his arm again, this time to halt his movement. “Pause in joining attack until number of guards is cut down. When lead guard makes attempt to join fight, kill him.” The Syrian nodded his acceptance of the instruction and watched as first blow against the cart was made and the gladiators laid waste to the Romans as slaves – most absent cloth for journey made to mines – emptied from the cart and ran from the dangers of the fight.

Nasir was already moving, seeing the lead guard turning at the sounds of battle and drawing sword to join fight. The former body slave moved quickly behind the man and knocked the blade from his hand before presence was noticed, then shifted the angle of his sword and thrust it up into the Roman’s chest.

_Do not kill me!_ The words clashed through Nasir’s mind as it was repeated many times from numerous sources throughout the battle. His head throbbed as the words did not cease, the pressure causing him to nearly lose control of his awareness. Pushing away the pain piercing his mind, he turned his attention to the continuing fight to determine where he was needed. Agron was the closest, engaged in killing a guard while another – the fucking slaver Ferox – was coming upon the German’s back.

Nasir’s legs were moving to take him to Agron’s side before thought to do so could form. Just as the slaver’s blade rose to strike Agron down, Nasir’s blade pierced his back and he fell between the two men. Agron turned at the sound with weapon ready to strike, but relaxed immediately upon seeing the Syrian had come to his aid and a wide grin took place of the fury of battle.

“You favor clever strategy: fuck the man from behind,” Agron spoke lightly. Nasir was uncertain of how he should respond, but found his lips lifting in a hesitant smile. His mind was slowly recovering from the assault of unspoken pleas for mercy and fear of death. As the pain passed, he became more aware of the truth he had now taken lives without hesitation. His eyes fell to the man he had struck down and he allowed his body relax and settled his weight upon his knee. Agron lowered his body to one knee as well but remained silent as Nasir considered what his life would now be full of: death and the dealing of it.

It was more difficult to accept than he had believed it would be.

“Spartacus tells a sword becomes lighter in time,” his gaze sought Agron’s and was relieved to see understanding reflected in the green eyes watching him. He had feared revelation of guilt in taking life would upset Agron.

“It is a heavy thing to rob a man of life.” His eyes dropped to the slaver between them and his deep dislike of the man’s kind came forward immediately. “Less so that of a Roman shit.” He turned back to Nasir and his need to reassure the little man came forward and he moved to stand and step over the body. “Stay close by. I will help shoulder weight until…” His words were cut off by the slaver reaching up and grasping his leg.

Agron turned, ready to strike the final blow but was stopped at the slaver’s words claiming knowledge of Naevia, having heard Spartacus and Crixus questioning freed slaves of her. At the news that Naevia had been taken to the mines mere days past by this man himself, Nasir felt a wave of relief to know hope yet remained for the reunion of hearts.

Once explanation was given, Agron thrust his gladius into the man’s throat to ensure death. Nasir turned away, putting every effort to ignoring the final plea in his mind.

Nasir realized how far from grasp control of his abilities were as he stood with Agron and turned, only to be faced with the anger of the Undefeated Gaul.

Nervous at Crixus’ reaction, Nasir inhaled deeply to steel nerve and spoke. “The slaver, he spoke of your woman.” _Naevia!_ Crixus’ mind exclaimed as he stepped closer to Nasir.

“What did he tell you?” Crixus asked and Nasir’s eyes dropped as he struggled to speak of the woman’s fate, hesitant to cause the man more pain. “Speak!” command was given and old instincts stirred in the Syrian and he prepared to follow order given.

“Naevia is dead,” Agron’s voice cut off his words and Nasir looked to the gladiator in his confusion at why Agron would lie to Crixus about what Ferox had told them. Nasir felt the urge to speak against Agron, but held back as Crixus’ reaction to such news overcame him: the man’s mind went as silent as the dead around them.

Naevia had been all that kept this man alive and for her to be gone from this world was the loss of Crixus’ heart. And one could not live without their heart…

 

* * *

 

 

With the passing of the day and following morning, Nasir withdrew further from those around him. He had blatantly refused to speak to Mira when the woman attempted to converse with him again and his mind echoed with her confusion at the unexplained change in him. He only spoke to relay instructions of tasks needing completion to other freed slaves, yet even this was done in a cold manner.

Such direct instruction had given cause to another man freed from the same villa as Nasir had responded by calling him Tiberius. The Syrian’s mind was so overwhelmed by thoughts of his struggle concerning Naevia’s fate that he did not even realize mistake had been made.

However, Spartacus was nearby and he called out to the man who had spoken incorrectly, “He is Nasir. I would not again hear him called by slave name.” The man cowered away from the harsh tone of Spartacus’ words and nodded before leaving to complete task given. Spartacus turned to face the Syrian and approached him, the younger man having paused once he heard Spartacus speak his name though it had taken pause for him to realize what had caused the Thracian’s irritation. Once Spartacus was near, Nasir looked up at him to see concerned eyes observing him. “Roman name was discarded. Why do you not defend such choice?”

Nasir understood why Spartacus was so angered by such an idea: the name all knew him by was one given by Rome and he was bound to it. The man had already revealed to Nasir how he felt pride that the Syrian had made choice to reclaim his true name while so many others refused to do so.

“I did not realize name called was not one reclaimed,” Nasir answered with truth, his respect for Spartacus too great to even form thought of deceit or dismissal. He nearly felt regret when he saw concern within the man’s expression increase at his answer. Uncertain of how to respond to such display of care, Nasir made decision to leave and his head lowered and hands clasped behind his back, the familiar posture aiding to calm the Syrian. “There are many tasks I must see to assigning if we are to be ready to depart for Vesuvius.”

_He again retreats from us._ Nasir paused in turning away and looked back to Spartacus. The man waited for him to speak, not knowing that it was his own words which had given Nasir reason to face him again. The Syrian was about to break words that he was not retreating but distracted by other matters before thought occurred that to do so would reveal ability and he held his silence. He had kept his secret for so many years and within a few weeks he had nearly broken words of revelation. The notion caused further unrest in his mind and he turned again and walked away absent further words of farewell.

Such distraction was becoming troublesome and Nasir moved toward new purpose: seeking out Agron.

The German was found speaking with Donar of travel details, yet he dismissed the man quickly when he saw Nasir approach. Donar gave a nod of greeting to Nasir as they passed each other. _Continue to prove me wrong._ Nasir was able to suppress reaction to the sharp pain which accompanied the words and he was reminded yet again of the control he no longer possessed over hearing the unspoken.

Agron closed the distance between them, reaching out to grasp the Syrian’s arm in greeting – a habit he had fallen into within days of Nasir joining rebellion and Nasir had not denied the contact as he would with any other making similar attempt. “Are preparations set to depart for Vesuvius?” he asked, his voice low while in such close proximity.

Nasir was suddenly grateful for all the conversations they had shared, for there was no hesitation in putting voice to his concern. “Is Vesuvius the correct path to take?” Spartacus’ thought that he was returning to shield of Tiberius had disturbed the Syrian deeply and he would settle mind so as to not prove the rebel leader correct.

Agron’s hand dropped from Nasir’s arm and his posture seemed to falter as he realized how this exchange of words would progress. He had believed the subject to be resolved with words broken earlier, yet it seemed that the Syrian required more assurance that they were acting for the benefit of many within the rebellion.

“All within rebellion must be protected and Vesuvius provides such. Risk of pursuing Naevia, who may lay dead within the mines, far outweighs benefit of finding her alive.” Agron’s words – as the ones he had spoken earlier – held much sense yet Nasir still could not accept choice. The pain in Crixus’ mind and heart could not be part of a correct path. The Gaul’s decision to move on to Vesuvius, while indicative of acceptance of Naevia’s fate, did not remove the emptiness within that should not be present in a man of such honor.

“There is none you would pursue into the mines on mere thought they may yet draw breath?” The question was unexpected and gave Agron reason to pause. Nasir held no desire to cause his friend pain, yet he had to know if the German had ever had one in his life who he would give life to protect. That is what Naevia is to Crixus.

Agron sighed deeply and lifted his hand again, this time to touch Nasir’s cheek as he had earlier that day when caring words had first been broken. “I would see those holding importance to me never suffer such a fate.”

“Choice is not always within grasp and should not be denied Crixus.”

Fingers embracing his cheek tensed at mention of the Gaul. “You would see us all dead for the fucking Gaul’s pain? This is how you wish to embrace freedom: by giving up life at first opportunity?” Nasir’s hand lifted from his side to cover Agron’s larger one, only to take hold and pull the hand from contact with his face. It was the first time he had refused Agron’s touch and green eyes looked down to him in confusion and shock.

“I would have life lived be one absent regret.”

Though resolution had not been found, Nasir turned to walk away as he had given voice to thoughts that mattered. There were many tasks that yet needed completion for journey to Vesuvius which Nasir could turn focus to and he would do so. He set focus upon gathering supplies, packing them for travel. He worked without disturbance for the remainder of the morning until Chadara crossed path with him while he packed supplies into trunk.

“You intend to spirit away the entire villa in that trunk,” her careless tone brought him comfort in its familiarity. He looked up to her and was further calmed by the unwavering spirit within the woman he had known for so many years.

Nasir looked to his friend briefly before returning his attention to task. “We do not know what Vesuvius holds, Chadara. Agron would have us well supplied.”

The woman gave a smile of satisfaction that Nasir was displeased to see: she was too familiar with him. She was familiar with the tone of tolerance he had used – one familiar to any receiving orders from the body slave while serving their Dominus – and recognized how nervous he was of revealing a thing he did not desire to her. He noticed the expression and anticipated advice given he held no desire to hear. Chadara possessed such skill to understand his actions and took great joy in using such knowledge to her advantage at every opportunity. It was not malice toward him that guided her actions, but a desire to aid him in maintaining clear mind. For she was a survivor as much as he was and his clarity of mind had meant their Dominus was well tended.

“Ah yes, Agron,” her tone held as much satisfaction as her expression and Nasir realized that he had brought her immediately to topic she wished to discuss with him. His mind was a fucking mess to have fallen directly into topic of Chadara’s desire so quickly. “He is of a form, is he not?”

Mind betrayed Nasir as his face filled with heat at memories of touch Agron was fond of bestowing upon him. “I suppose,” he managed to speak in the same distant manner, only accomplishing such from years of controlling voice and body. Though he was aware he only managed such control because of his current dilemma with the man.

Chadara, however, had not been fooled by his blank mask for many years. “Oh, you suppose,” she replied in jest. He continued in task of storing supplies for transport, making attempt to ignore subject he had no desire of pursuing further. “Do not think I have not noticed your eyes upon him, nor the way of late you have been huddled together in intimate conversation.”

Frustration grew in Nasir at Chadara’s refusal to dismiss the discussion as he desired. While her words held truth in that the two conversed often in privacy, nothing further occurred between them. Nasir intended for it to remain so, unwilling to risk friendship because of foolish desires he had yet to understand rising within him. “You mistake subject of discussion.” He cursed his voice for lacking confidence in his defense.

“Yet not the blush upon cheek when he is near.” Nasir let out a sound of derision, intent on not allowing her words to sway his resolve. Though her words were of a forward nature as was customary for her, her tone held a serious quality he was unaccustomed to. She continued in such a serious manner, though her next words carried more weight. “You would do yourself well to pursue desire.” The woman rarely spoke in a manner that relayed how deeply she cared about him so he found himself taking in such words carefully. Seeming to realize her words had carried desired attention, her tone again lightened as she continued. “I would myself if I believed he favored me.”

An unfamiliar feeling rose in Nasir at the thought of Agron’s attentions being directed toward Chadara and his eyes burned with fury before control was regained.

It was only once he recovered his composure that he realized what his friend was making an attempt to reveal to him: Agron could hold affection toward him as well. Dismissing the thought, Nasir once again made attempt at distraction. “I thought you were taken with Rhaskos.”

“Rhaskos is a base animal, yet one with sharp claws, offering protection and position.” Nasir rose and turned a sharp gaze upon Chadara. He held little value in gaining position among the rebels, only holding desire to stand among those of similar purpose. He allowed his friend to pursue such but made request of not suggesting he act in the same manner. His gaze reminded her of such and she swiftly decided to alter her manner of approach. “Spartacus holds Agron in much high esteem. I envy you his attention.” She gave him one final soft smile and walked away, leaving him to consider her observation.

Nasir had always held strong eyes of observation of others and could understand feelings of others even without ability to hear the echo of words within mind. It was a thing all proficient slaves excelled at and he held great skill as a slave. Yet despite this, he could not claim with certainty if Chadara’s words held truth. When he had first felt the touch of attraction toward the German, he had believed such strong emotions to be response of being extended caring hand for the first time in his life and had dismissed them.

Desire served no purpose other than to distract from difficult times and he would not fall prey to it. Harsh life of service taught the Syrian that much and lesson would not be ignored simply because freedom had been gained.

Though it seemed as if Chadara’s words had resonated within him as he realized his lips had lifted in a small smile at the thought of Agron holding affections toward him as well. He shook his head to remove expression from face and thoughts from mind and moved to finish task.

Moving the trunk once full was a task of great difficulty for the Syrian. Despite being accustomed to the physical labors of a slave, his small stature presented limitation in lifting greater weights he could not overcome. Every step was paired with a hiss of exertion as he pulled the trunk behind him. So focused on task, he was caught by surprise when he felt the other end lifted and burden was shared. Having not expected any aid – why should such a thing be expected when it had never before been offered – he turned, his mind finding further upheaval at laying eyes upon Crixus. He had held hope the man would continue to ignore him but for distant scrutiny accompanied by silent curses. Unable to bear looking at the man when he had caused him such pain, his eyes lowered immediately and he turned to continue his task desiring for the silence to continue.

“I was not in favor of your training,” Crixus spoke, bringing a curse to Nasir’s mind. “Do you know the reason?”

Keeping his voice as even he could manage as his heart raced along with his mind. There was a long enough pause to indicate Crixus was waiting for him to give answer: he had yet to become proficient at knowing with certainty when speaking was desired. “I made attempt on Spartacus.” He was certain that reason included more by the unspoken words of disgust, yet he could not give such answer.

There was amusement in the Gaul’s tone as he replied. “As have I, on more than one occasion. I did not trust you because you are Syrian.” Memory of Agron telling him of the Syrian known to them in the ludus came to Nasir and he found himself curious as to actions the man of his land had taken to be so despised.

Yet Nasir had now done a similar thing in allowing Crixus to feel the pain of loss. How was he different? How could he think himself to be better?

“I have had unfortunate acquaintance with one of your people, as did my woman, Naevia.” Nasir was unable to keep his eyes from Crixus any longer as the man spoke the name of his woman with such tenderness, turning to again face the man and lowering his physical burden. It was a thing the former body slave could not understand, this manner of living for another because of a desire to do so. This was not a thing the survivor he was could comprehend.

His thoughts did not keep him from recognition of the accusation in the Gaul’s words – though not directed at him – and he felt the urge to offer regret for the man’s suffering. “Apologies.” He was honest in speaking such, yet he could not say with certainty what he had been truly given apology for.

“He caused her much pain.” The Gaul’s mind screamed in anger and grief at memories of such pain and Nasir’s own breath caught briefly as he was assaulted by such strong words, his mind once again splitting in pain at hearing such. Yet he would not allow pain to keep him from knowing what the man desired to say to him. “Yet despite this, she would not have held you for his actions. Such was her heart. One I shall try to honor, in thought and deed.”

Branded arm was extended to Nasir in an offer of peace.

The Syrian’s breath again caught in chest, the action becoming difficult with the force of his emotions. His mind yet echoed with a myriad of unspoken words from Crixus, giving him even deeper knowledge of how difficult it was for this man to look beyond his hatred of the other Syrian to accept Nasir as trusted ally. Such understanding caused even greater ache in his heart for knowledge yet secreted from the man. If he allowed Naevia’s fate to be decided by Rome, how was Nasir any different from Tiberius?

As body slave, he had made attempt to keep punishment from those serving his master – a man quick to make choice based upon fleeting mood – and had greatly succeeded in such. Knowing the man’s mind and desires had allowed the Syrian to know what words would balm fury and prevent harm being inflicted. Yet he had known failure in this though had accepted such as yet another unfortunate part of life under Rome’s rule. As result, unconcern toward others had grown in him. Now that he stood as one to inflict suffering, such defense against difficult situation failed him and he could not even put name to emotions rising within him.

Spartacus’ unspoken words of how he again retreated from those of rebellion held truth. He had allowed Tiberius’ habits to convince him that his own feelings did not matter as long as he did not defy command. While order had never been voiced, Agron had been clear that Crixus was not to know of Naevia’s location.

Which brought question of why Nasir had followed lead, despite his disagreement to do so? Had he not cast aside servitude of Tiberius for life released from orders of another? Would he yet answer the whims of others?

The pain of Nasir’s heart told him choice was made and he had been wrong in acting as he had. While he had done so, in part, to protect fragile bond between him and Agron it did not make choice right. He would correct such vile action and live free as he desired.

Crixus would not forgive him his lie, yet regret lay not in truth.

“There is something I must tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading. Comments and kudos are loved beyond measure. Chapter 3/Part 2 coming soon. As weird as it sounds, NaNo (writing 50K words in the month of November for those not familiar) will delay next update. My beta is taking on that challenge (I am as well) and so will be focused on writing instead of reading. The chapter will be up ASAP after that though. Thank you for your patience!


	3. The Greater Good part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Options are presented and choices are made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Pairing Agron/Nasir  
> Chapter Word Count: 6,110 (yeah it's a little shorter because of where it got broken up)  
> Beta: AkinaSky  
> A/N: I do apologize for how long getting this chapter posted has taken. This was the first year I participated in NaNo (successfully!) and so all my time went into writing and not editing. On the other hand I have a good portion of the sequel finished now.  
> Thank you all for the kudos and comments. The feedback I'm getting is awesome! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

 Nasir again found himself in Agron’s company alone, the air between them burdened by unspoken words. However the Syrian would see discontent between them settled. To see such great anger in the German’s eyes when Crixus had spoken the Syrian’s name had been unbearable and he would ensure it not remain as poison to their growing friendship.

 Though Nasir held awareness of pursuit of subject may mean the end of the developing bond between them…

 It was not his desire for such outcome, yet his life had never been filled with satisfaction and he held no expectation for that to change now that he had claimed freedom. He would stand by choice he held belief in.

 Agron was without doubt aware of the young man following him as if shadow, for he led them to quiet corner deep within the villa.

 Once he ceased walking, he remained facing away from Nasir who found no success in attempt to find words. Yet as his mind rushed through possible words he found greater certainty that he did not wish to offer apology for what he had done. No difference in events would alter choice made. Crixus – as the one who held Naevia’s heart – stood the only one deserving of right to choose her fate.

 His thoughts gave him cause to straighten back and look up to Agron with confidence unlike he had ever previously experienced. It was then that Agron turned to face him and his gaze locked with Nasir’s. He had seemed intent on speaking, yet once eyes met words failed and the German remained absent words. Silence between them continued for another few moments, the Syrian determined to hear Agron’s words as he had yet to find his own.

 Finally, Agron’s face relaxed into fond smile he often cast at Nasir and he moved close enough to reach out and touch palm to the Syrian’s dark cheek, his body curled so as to decrease difference of height between the two. “I stand honored to greet you, Nasir,” he spoke with tenderness, the tone presenting great deviation from his usual fierce aggression. Nasir did not give physical reaction, yet his heart relaxed its desperate pace as he realized Agron did not despise him now. In fact, he seemed to have found relief in what the Syrian had done.

 Perhaps Agron had felt as much regret as Nasir at his choice.

 “You truly believe mines hold fate of death and nothing more?” Nasir asked. The warm hand upon his cheek fell away and Agron straightened his posture to full height, yet his green eyes were dark with emotion.

 “The mines are a place of death, regardless of how one comes to be within them.”

 Such was the very reason Nasir had worked so diligently as body slave to keep others from them. Agron’s words only gave support to his choice. “And you see Spartacus and Crixus to such an end without raising sword in aid? Do they not stand as brothers?”

 Agron’s anger, only barely having been quelled, was once again surfacing. “Not all among us stand as such and their fates must be considered as well. Such position is held by you as well, regardless of growing skill with sword.” It was an unexpected point for the gladiator to make and it confused Nasir as to the purpose of speaking so. “Words broken before still hold truth: I would not see you fall. If to protect you means turning back upon Spartacus, I will embrace such sacrifice.”

 Nasir wondered if such passion would have existed if Agron’s brother yet lived. He was certain some measure of Agron’s deceit was based upon strong fear of losing another he held deep bond with. Regardless, none other had ever shown him such concern as to act solely for his protection and so he stood uncertain in how to accept Agron’s feelings.

 Agron watched him for another moment before he turned away and ran a hand through his short hair, as if suddenly uncertain after such honest revelation. “We leave for Vesuvius as soon as all taking such path stand ready.” He turned and walked away then, leaving Nasir to realize Agron had not told him to prepare to go. Possibility was strong the German held belief that Nasir yet held intention to accompany him to the mountain. He certainly desired greatly to remain with Agron, yet the German’s words had presented him with another option.

 His aid to Naevia need not see an end at revealing her location to Crixus. If he could once again harness talent as he had in learning to hear thoughts of his Dominus alone, chance of success in locating the woman would greatly increase. Furthermore, he had knowledge of the mines – however brief his visit there had been – and he knew of how slavers conducted business. He had dealt with them with great regularity in his previous position, such experience unlikely to be gained for those from the ludus. He could truly be of use to Crixus in restoring heart to him.

 His mind once again conflicted, though the cause much less disturbing than previous deception, he walked through the halls of the villa to his bedroll. He folded it in a manner easy to carry and gathered the few items of clothing Mira and Agron had ensured he claimed in the time since being freed. The two had given him so much guidance in this new life as he struggled to learn, having not even considered claiming new clothes as they were gathered from conquered villas as his own. The long vest he wore now would not be sufficient for travel as it was, so he grabbed a long strip of dark cloth and wrapped it around his neck and torso ensuring enough slack remained to bring over his head, then securing it in place first with the sheath for sword Chadara had fashioned for him then with a belt around waist. Packing away remaining clothes in the folds of the bedroll, he stood and brought the items to other supplies gathered for transport to Vesuvius and placed it among other similar piles.

 He looked to courtyard and saw Crixus and Spartacus with other gladiators changing clothes to mere subligaria, unable to disguise selves in any more when going to mines as delivered workers. Agron approached and walked past him with a brief nod of greeting toward the gathered men, possibly with intent to bid farewell to his friend.

 Nasir stood behind the tall man as he gave final insult to the Gaul and spoke words of rejoining if mines did not claim lives. He turned and walked just past Nasir where his own sack of belongings lay.

 Nasir saw opportunity presented and knew choice to offer aid was made as words were broken. “I accompanied my Dominus to the mines once. I may be of some aid.” He spoke in manner that allowed refusal if unwelcome, but Crixus responded with words of invitation and his tone spoke of gratitude. Nasir had been forgiven his deceit by the one most injured by his actions.

 Nasir was left with the need to know Agron’s reaction to choice and he turned to the man. His eyes were determined, though, as he would not give any cause to think he would bend to another’s will if disagreement was held.

 It was with a disbelieving shake of his head that Agron accepted Nasir’s choice. “Fucking Syrians,” he said with a bemused grin that would have covered pain felt if not for the sadness within his green eyes. Nasir let out a small breath of amused relief that Agron would not make attempt to alter his choice.

 As the German walked away, Mira approached to pass message that wagon was prepared and departure was upon them. They walked from the courtyard toward villa’s entrance when Spartacus and Crixus approached Nasir and removed the Syrian from the group. All others had been put to task within deception and now there was need to determine Nasir’s place as well.

 “When you laid eyes upon the mines, what was your purpose?” Spartacus asked.

 Memory caused Nasir’s stomach to churn before deep breath was taken to calm body and give response absent proof of such reaction. “A slave was to be delivered to the mines. Dominus wished to make example to me the consequence of failure.”

 “Would any recognize you?” Crixus questioned, his voice no longer holding the same dark edge he had used previously with the Syrian.

 “It was more than five years past and Dominus ordered I travel under cloak. He did not desire wandering eyes or hands to be set upon valued slave.” Cloak’s protection had been a lie though as Dominus bartered price for guards to lie with Nasir to enforce threatening message. “We remained for much of the day while he conducted business so I am familiar with how slavers at mines manage business.”

 “We have encountered enough slavers to know how they conduct business. Rhaskos will take such responsibility,” Crixus explained at least one detail of the plan.

 “Yes, you have had contact and witnessed business of slavers intending to sell lives. Have you bore witness to product being delivered to the mines?” Silence was his answer and he held certainty the two did not see cause for distinction. “I will take place of slaver replacing Ferox in shipment. We will learn of Naevia’s location within mines through bartering price and free her when opportunity is presented.”

 Crixus and Spartacus exchanged expressions of shock at such conviction from Nasir, a thing they had yet to witness in the little man. “And if deception fails before location is revealed?” Spartacus pressed, concern within his tone. “You will be exposed and we will not be in position to offer protection. You are still new to sword and we will be facing trained Roman guards whose skill surpasses those you have faced until now.”

 It was at this moment that Nasir realized he held another choice to be made and it was not one he held expectation of being presented with so quickly. He now held opportunity to tell another of his ability. It was not necessary to reveal his secret to convince Crixus and Spartacus the benefit of using plan presented yet it would ease discussion. He could also give in to plan Spartacus gave as the man held greater skill in devising strategy, though he believed that his experience was of a great enough value as to not be ignored.

 It was Agron’s earlier observation that aided him in making choice. The man had spoken of how Nasir had finally emerged from behind shield of Tiberius. The man Agron held pride in greeting was one who acted in reflection of his beliefs, one who did not yield to the command of others, one who laid trust in others as they laid the same trust in him. Such trust had begun when Spartacus refused to demand his death and now he stood as ally to the man and even the Gaul he had wronged.

 He would give demonstration of his trust by ignoring fear of ability being used as his body and mind had been for so many years. He would see his gifts aid – never again serve – Spartacus.

 “Words unspoken will protect me and lead us to Naevia if I fail to pry knowledge from the shit’s mouth.”

 The two gladiators again looked to each other briefly before returning gaze to Nasir in confusion.

 “We have no time for riddles. Speak plain fucking words,” Crixus demanded in frustration.

 Nasir took a deep breath to collect thoughts and quickly decided of how best to describe his ability. “It is my gift. Once it served my Dominus to know his every desire before it was given voice. Now it shall aid rebellion to hear words never given voice.” He could see the doubt in both men’s eyes and he sighed as he recalled reason for fearing revealing truth to others beyond family. These men did not have the same beliefs as his people and held no faith in oracles. “If you hold doubt, place no trust in it, yet I would not have it revealed to any that I even spoke of such ability. Know that you stand the first I have revealed truth to.”

 Spartacus was the first to recover sense and voice, though it was one unspoken that caught Nasir off-guard. _Sura…_ The name was unknown to the Syrian and he lowered his gaze and brought a hand to rub at his temples to relieve pain brought on by echo of the word. Spartacus stepped closer to the smaller man and reached out to grasp his arm to gain his attention again, but stopped when Nasir pulled away from such action. “What have we done to deserve to be the first to gain knowledge of guarded secret?”

 Lifting his gaze again to look between Spartacus and Crixus, Nasir offered a brief smile as his gaze rested upon rebel leader. “You gave trust in allowing me my life and presented me opportunity to reclaim life believed lost forever.” His gaze turned to Crixus. “You continue to honor Naevia’s heart in forgiving my mistake of keeping knowledge of her fate from you. Risk of revealing secret pales when faced with such deserving men.”

 There was a brief silence between the three men before Crixus shook his head with a brief smile. “Wild dog bears silver tongue when given cause to speak.”

 Spartacus gave a smile as well at the Gaul’s words. “Whether claimed talent exists does not alter experience you hold with the mines and those who deal in its business. Gather clothes to pass as slaver and we will depart once you have changed. Keep sword upon you.” The two men walked past him toward the cart and spoke to the men to inform them of the change in plan.

 Nasir returned to the courtyard where the pile of clothes taken from the attack on the slaver’s cart had been stored and he searched for anything that would fit position as well as his smaller form. Needing to settle on a heavy long shirt which would have fit Crixus better than him, he pulled off his belt, sheath, and cloth wrapped around neck. He wished briefly that the vest he wore already covered more of his chest as he pulled the thick material over his head and settled it into place.

 Approaching steps caught his attention and he was surprised when he turned to see Agron walking toward him. He stopped a few mere paces away from Nasir as he continued to maneuver the uncomfortable shirt into position that looked as if it should be worn by him, irritated when such required the rough cloth to rub against the skin of his neck. While bruising from collar had faded in the weeks since its removal, skin had remained unbearably sensitive to any touch.

 Movement from the tall German called Nasir’s attention and dark eyes watched as Agron removed the bracer around one of his wrists and then pulled the length of red cloth that wrapped around his wrist beneath the hard leather. He walked the last distance between their bodies and reached out with both hands to wrap the cloth around the Syrian’s neck, tying it loosely in place and moving it to lie between skin and shirt. Taken aback by the simple gesture of understanding discomfort – as it was a reminder of shackled life – and Agron’s attempt to relieve such feelings, Nasir could only watch the man before him through the gentle act.

 Yet it was such action and hand brushing against ear that gave Nasir reminder of a thing that would have ruined deception. “Piercing within ear is mark of my position and would be identified as such by any of authority within mines. Would you remove it?” Agron’s eyes moved between his ear and Nasir’s dark eyes before nodding and setting hands to task. “My Dominus never held favor of brands, yet refused to have nothing upon me to mark my position under him,” Nasir spoke to keep from focusing on the touch upon his skin as Agron worked to free the stud.

 “Why not remove the fucking thing earlier?” Agron questioned, his dislike of the items purpose causing temper to rise. While the German’s own arm held brand of slavery, it was also a symbol of brotherhood and the gladiators bore it with pride, giving such a thing greater meaning than Batiatus had in placing mark upon them.

 “I knew not how it was fastened,” his first response was rewarded with a grin from Agron, as he held hope it would. His own lips lifted briefly before more serious answer was given. “It has been upon me for so long I often forget it is even there.” Agron’s hands dropped away from Nasir’s ear, wooden earing grasped within fist.

 Nasir brought his own hand to his ear to feel the skin devoid of object, a sensation of release rising within him that he had not expected. The earring was such a simple thing, yet it had held such power. Fuck the Roman who had placed it upon him.

 Nasir stepped away from Agron and reached down to grab the belt and cloth he had removed to replace them upon him. He left the sheath Chadara had made for him behind as it would no longer fit comfortably with such thick clothing already upon him. He secured the belt around his waist and then wrapped the dark cloth back around his neck and torso, tucking the ends into the belt. Once in position, he pulled a layer of the cloth over his head to conceal his head. His hair was too well maintained to be that of a slaver and any other of the same position would be suspicious of sight.

 He moved to walk past Agron but paused when he stood at the man’s side, the two facing opposing directions.

 Breathing in deeply, Nasir refused to allow his eyes to look upon Agron, believing his resolve would falter if he knew the man’s expression. “We will meet again in sight of Vesuvius,” he spoke, feeling compelled to make promise regardless of possibility of not being able to carry out such words. Yet he truly believed they would meet again in this life, despite where favor of the gods lay.

 As Agron held favor of saying: fuck the gods.

 

* * *

 

 Journey to Lucania was not a long one, only taking part of the afternoon to come within sight of the cursed place. Nasir had hoped it would take longer, yet it was not for fear of what would be faced once there. Journey had been opportunity to make attempt to regain control over his ability he had once held. Even before he had removed all unspoken words but his Dominus, he had been able to harness enough control to only hear those he chose to listen to.

 He would see such command restored.

 He held certainty difficulty of task lay in difference of mind. His life as Tiberius had relied upon control over every action where failure held strong possibility of death. Such was motivation to not allow anything to occur within him that was not exactly as he intended.

 Yet same penalty did not exist for Nasir, freedom meaning such control was not necessary for survival. He had accepted others into his life and in doing so seemed to have opened his mind to easily gain access to unspoken words. It was only the years of denying such that caused him suffering now as he did not know how to tolerate so many words not his own.

 The first portion of their travel, he allowed words to come to him unrestricted. He had always fought the words, even when yet a child and first discovering his ability, and so he held strength of mind to resist when he desired. A small measure of such defense was done at all times without thought and now he ignored this habit and allowed all words – both unspoken and shared between his companions – to flow through him. This acceptance took some measure of time to become accustomed to and his head throbbed in pain for his choice. Yet with time, he did adapt to the sensation and pain lessened to a dull ache which remained at all times yet was easily bearable to one so used to ignoring pain.

 It was then that he made attempt to gain command over whose words he heard. He was surprised by how easily knowledge of such skill returned to him. After all, he had not forgotten how to control his mind and body; he merely required adaptation to his new manner of thinking. Ability was the same as it had always been and it truly existed as another part of him. By the time the mines were within sight, he had managed to find enough rest after practicing such control to ease mind before taking on task of deception and searching for Naevia.

 Yet the closer they came to the mines, Nasir gained greater understanding of the daunting task before him. He had not considered just how many words he would require to push away as he was surrounded by thousands of people, slaves and guards alike adding to strain. To complicate matters further, so many of the people held only a desire for the end of their suffering and their minds screamed such without control. He had not considered until they had announced their wagon to be delivery from Ferox that not all he would be encountering would hold the mental discipline of a gladiator or even a healthy slave. His oversight was now causing him great pain as his mind was assaulted by countless pleas for the release of death. His discomfort was only increased by the guards, Roman minds dark from working such a place causing nausea within Nasir.

 Yet he would not fail in his task. Once destination of tent of the man who ran mines was reached, Nasir jumped down from the front of the wagon and walked around to release latch and opened cage.

 Embracing behavior he had witnessed many times in slavers, he shouted command to Rhaskos in manner that would leave no question of his authority. “Do I give coin to sit upon ass? See them from the fucking wagon!” Before turning away, he saw a few gladiators cast baffled expressions to one another at such a difference in the Syrian before moving to follow command as would be expected. Nasir walked confidently past guards toward a man whose visage was as grotesque as the place in which he ruled over.

 Nasir struggled to ease the churning of his stomach at the man’s rancid mind. He knew his body was trembling with the effort – though the layers of clothes prevented any knowing of such – and it was affecting the conviction of his words. Answers given were not as strong as they needed to be to gain enough leverage to discover Naevia’s location with ease. The man quickly took advantage of his weakness and spoke words that indicated he would not even conduct business with the Syrian and his mind raced to find way to salvage mistake.

 Before he could even make attempt, Mira’s voice rose behind him offering alternate option. “Am I to present myself now?” Nasir was not comfortable in Mira being used in such manner, yet he could not speak against her now that offer was voiced or he would look even more the fool. The slaver’s mind had also begun to race with thoughts of how he would put such a gift to use and Nasir knew that this was the easiest way to learn what they required.

 So he agreed to put Mira at greater risk than he would have been in at any point unless exposed and watched as the woman was pulled away from the safety of Spartacus’ side. Her mind revealed fear that she would not find way to gain information before man found satisfaction within her, and Nasir had to breathe deeply to calm his mind and body’s reaction to knowing how her impulsive action may revolt against her.

 As he was gathering himself, one of the other guards was looking over the line of gladiators standing at presentation. The man walked toward them, gaining Nasir’s attention as he realized they were being observed too closely for the man to have mere passing interest. The Syrian followed a few steps behind the guard, his steps light and silent in manner long ago learned to remain from attention of others.

 When the guard stood before Spartacus and gave voice of recognition of the former Champion of Capua, the Thracian struck the man’s head with his own. Such unexpected blow knocked the man off balance and Nasir reached out to place his hand over the guard’s mouth before alarm could be called out. He strained to keep hold – the difference of height between them making task difficult – as enough sense was regained after the blow to struggle against the restraint. One of the other gladiators came forward and drew the guard’s sword from sheath and stabbed it through the chest of its owner. The man immediately went limp and Nasir shifted his grip to catch the man, though it presented a different struggle until the gladiator reached out and helped bear the weight. The two dragged the body into the entrance of the mines to conceal the bodies and the presence of rebels.

 As the other guard was killed and dragged into the tunnel entrance as well, Mira emerged from the tent with blood upon her hands and knowledge of Naevia’s location. Once they were inside the mines, she opened the map she had taken from the tent and indicated to Spartacus and Crixus where the head guard had revealed Naevia’s location to be. Nasir watched from behind, noting as well how deeply within the tunnels they would be journeying and sighed deeply. His mind was already echoing in pain at the constant wails of desire for death and he knew he would not tolerate much more and remain able to identify Naevia.

 There was also the question of if he would even be able to identify one he had never met. While he held no doubt that he could find her by appearance, if her mind had been tainted by this place she would be another voice among thousands. It was not a thing he had considered until now and he had to battle the thought that he would be of no further use to Crixus when he had promised more.

 A hand touched his shoulder and he pulled away before turning to Spartacus. The man did not speak, but indicated that they were moving on and he nodded and fell in step with other gladiators around them. They moved through countless tunnels, all filled with men, women, and children working without end. Nasir kept much of his focus upon controlling as much of his ability as he could while still maintaining awareness of his surroundings. For this distraction, he remained in the middle of the line of rebels moving through the mines.

 Few fights took place as there were not many guards within the deeper tunnels, yet such were used for many of the gladiators to claim weapons they had not been able to bring with them. The more weapons they held, the greater confidence they moved with and they soon made swifter progress to their destination.

 Nasir knew neither how deeply within the tunnels they had progressed nor how long they had been within them, yet he knew he was quickly reaching the limit of his capabilities. He was exhausted from fighting his ability and so his defenses against unspoken words were failing, allowing more voices into his mind. Each voice brought pain and he could only ignore and tolerate so much pain before it had to be embraced. It was shortly after they had split their group that he was unable to continue without stopping. He leaned his body against the cold wall of the tunnel and made attempt to calm his labored breathing.

 Fortunately, there were a few other rebels behind him to see him stop and they called forward to Spartacus. He had not thought to do so and used the knowledge that he might have gotten left behind and lost for such distraction to aid his mind in finding focus once again. It was still difficult to do so as his head felt as if it would split apart, yet he had suffered worse through his life and he would not be overcome by a thing that was part of him. Finding the strength he needed in such a thought, he looked up to see Spartacus standing before him once again with concern in his eyes. He took one final deep breath and stood upright from the wall and nodded for the Thracian to continue forward. He knew Spartacus desired to question him as to cause for stopping as he had, yet their situation did not allow opportunity and rebel leader accepted his actions.

 It was not much longer when they reached the place within tunnels the slaver had indicated to Mira where Naevia had been assigned to work. It was here that Nasir allowed his defenses to drop and began searching through voices within mind as well as looked upon the bodies for a woman matching the description Crixus had given. He held hope the woman would hear Crixus calling her name and would give response he could follow.

 He was once again approaching his limits of endurance to the pain in his mind as a quiet word echoed through the edge of his awareness. He ceased all movement and his eyes closed in concentration. He believed he had heard the voice call for the Gaul, yet if he had not been searching for such a thing he would have missed it completely. If he could hear it again, he may be able to identify if the quiet nature of the word was because of distance or weakness.

 It was not until Crixus once again called out for Naevia that Nasir heard the answer within his mind. The response was quiet from weakness, and so Nasir opened his eyes and carefully searched every person around him. Now that he knew with certainty which voice was Naevia’s, he ignored all others but hers with greater ease. He knew with certainty that she lived and they would find her.

 His eyes passed over a dark shoulder, but returned as he saw the mark of position upon the right shoulder. He looked closer and recognized the Domina’s mark with relief. “Crixus! There is one with mark of Domina upon back!” he called to the Gaul and stepped away when the larger man approached. As Crixus reached out for the woman, another worker beside Naevia charged at him but was easily caught. Nasir approached to take the woman from Crixus and pulled her away.

 “She is to be freed,” Nasir spoke to the woman he held, hearing the screams in her mind to keep Naevia safe from further harm. She had obviously grown close to the one who had suffered so much and had already done much to protect her. Such fire within the mines was rare and Nasir felt relief at knowing that Naevia had found one to share burden while in this cursed place. “He is Crixus.” The woman looked to him and her body relaxed in his grasp. He released her and they bore witness to the reunion before them.

 Nasir recognized how this rejoining of hearts, regardless of damage done to both, was a sight of value beyond all measure. These two people held complete devotion to the other. It was a thing Nasir could only hold dream of knowing for himself. For ones such as him were not granted desire, but instead satisfied it in others. His relationship as it was with Agron was proof enough of such fact.

 Though to see the freed Crixus embrace the former body slave Naevia, Nasir knew he had chosen the correct path.

 Yet the danger of their situation was brought to attention with the warning of approaching Romans, followed by the death of the rebel delivering message. Nasir had been so distracted that he had not realized that among the continuous cries of other condemned slaves, there were now echoes of desire for rebel death. Had he been vigilant, he could have given warning before their ally’s life was lost.

 Unable to offer more time for further regret, Nasir moved past Spartacus to return from the path they had taken in effort to escape the threat. Yet it was a call from Crixus that brought him pause: the name of the Syrian hated by all gladiators for crimes he had committed against them. Nasir stopped and moved to the side so all behind him could pass, he looked back to lay eyes upon his kin.

 While this man, Ashur, held some physical traits of one from Assyria he was not as exotic in appearance as Nasir was. His skin tone, hair, and eyes all held darker shades similar to Nasir, yet that was where similarity ceased. The other man was built better for battle of the arena and had an unkempt manner that Nasir had never possessed. Yet there was intelligence reflected in his gaze, which communicated more than unspoken words ever could: this man was dangerous in that he would do all for the one he held loyalty to. And there was indeed loyalty within this man, yet it was a thing given only to those who provided safety.

 This man was as much of a survivor as Nasir was, yet he was willing to tread much darker paths to gain his safety than the former body slave had ever been.

 Nasir now understood why Crixus and Agron had allowed their acquaintance with this Syrian to cloud their opinion of him when they had met under the action he had chosen. In fact, he now stood surprised that they had managed to look beyond such to accept him.

 Spartacus approached him, having gained enough advantage in the fight he had been engaged in to make escape, and he gave order for Nasir to move. Following the command swiftly, Nasir followed the path to regain pace with the remaining rebels as they moved through the tunnels to find escape. They could not return to the entrance they had used and so Mira found them alternate route, struggling to keep them on the correct path as Roman soldiers plagued their heels.

 Nasir kept position near Naevia and Crixus, ready to offer aid if requested as the woman remained unsteady on her feet. Such position also kept him toward the center of the rebels, a place of greater safety for him as he possessed not the strength or the skill to aid in fight within such environment. He also yet fought against unspoken words as his exhaustion continued to affect his control.

 When exit from the mines was found, he knew relief unlike he had ever experienced and he moved forward quickly to break from the oppression of the tunnels. Once under the open sky, he fell to his knees and gasped for breath unable to keep from doing so. There was a brief pause as the small clutch of rebels waited for the last few yet within the mines, such as Spartacus, Crixus, Rhaskos, and Naevia. The gladiators remained at the opening of the tunnel with swords at the ready in case it was Romans who first emerged while Mira moved beside Nasir and they all waited in anticipation.

 Spartacus and Naevia alone emerged a few tense moments later, the gladiator supporting a distraught woman.

 Crixus had fallen to the Roman soldiers to save Naevia.

 Nasir closed his eyes at the knowledge that Crixus had been lost to them – either through death or recapture – and the Syrian allowed a moment of grief for the loss before Spartacus called them all to movement. They were, after all, still within the mines and they would be pursued further by soldiers now that they held certainty that the Thracian was there. Standing on legs unsteady from exhaustion, Nasir fell in step with the gladiators as they set destination as the woods surrounding Lucania and made their escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan is certainly for there not to be so much of a delay in the next update. As before mentioned, I am working on the second part of this trilogy. The second story will take place between Vengeance and War of the Damned and is my chance to have some serious fun with the story while not being really bound to events of episodes. It will still remain as canon compliant as I can possibly make it without having anything but vague references for what happened in that time from the first episode of WotD.  
> Feedback is always appreciated and I will see you all next time! Thank you for reading.


	4. Empty Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warrior is born...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Chapter Word Count: 7,559  
> Beta: AkinaSky  
> A/N: And here's a chapter to kick off the New Year! Enjoy!

** Chapter 4: Empty Hands **

 

Crixus’ sacrifice within the mines gave Roman soldiers enough pause for escaping rebels to gain the surrounding wood with minimal pursuit. None relaxed though as there was certainty of chase being given once organized. The few remaining rebels moved with careful haste, turning immediately in the direction of Vesuvius.

The sky was beginning to darken when they found a small stream and took rest while cleansing as much filth from their bodies as possible. Mira remained close to the distraught Naevia, making attempt to keep her calm. The remaining Gauls – Fortis, Tychos, Liscus, and Sofus – spoke in hushed tones amongst themselves while keeping guard against possible Roman threat. Nasir was kneeling next to the water, his chest bare as he wrung as much water from the slaver shirt he had worn. The material was near unbearable already absent filth gained within the mines yet he would need to keep as much clothes on him as possible in the coming night. Once he had finished to satisfaction, he set the cloth aside and reached up to pull the cord from his hair, releasing the knot that kept it back so he could run handfuls of water through it with ease. While his hair was in great need of cleansing – mud from the mines already drying the long strands into knots he had to work free quickly – the cold water served purpose of easing the pounding in his head that had yet to pass.

Just as he began to twist his hair back into its usual plait at the back of his head, Spartacus approached him and kneeled beside him. They hadn’t spoken since leaving the villa and Nasir wondered as to what the rebel leader intended to say.

“You appear to yet be in pain,” Spartacus spoke quietly. Putting more focus than was needed upon task of fixing his hair in manner that would not come loose, Nasir turned to Naevia. Her mind had not ceased in its cries of loss of Crixus, making it more difficult for his mind to find relief. He held no blame upon her though, as she had suffered greatly.

“I underestimated the strength of so many without hope. Their minds are unreserved and echo the pain of their bodies.” There was a relief Nasir did not expect to feel as he was able to speak the truth of his pain and have it be accepted.

“And such pain is experienced by one who hears such thoughts?” Spartacus’ voice was difficult to glean his feelings from, though that was common for the Thracian.

Nasir tied off the cord and checked the strength of the tether before at last turning to face Spartacus. “Pain is experienced upon every unspoken word that pierces mind.” There was brief pause then Nasir turned away and pulled the shirt back into place over his torso. “Apologies for failing in discovering Naevia in manner that did not expose us. I did not wish to see Crixus remain behind to see us safely from that fucking place.”

Spartacus’ eyes lowered in grief at the unknown fate of his brother. “I do not hold fault in you for anything that occurred within the mines. We must press forward to Vesuvius and our allies.” He stood then, but hesitated in walking away. “Know that I will do all within my strength to see you returned safely to Agron.” Nasir paused in fastening the belt about his waist to keep the heavy shirt from inhibiting movement and turned to the Thracian.

“That is unnecessary,” Nasir said, not wanting to see any be put at risk for his sake.

Spartacus responded as though the Syrian had not spoken. “Your presence had brought life back to Agron’s eyes, a thing I have not seen since Duro’s death. I will not have it again lost.” He turned away and walked toward the Gauls, leaving Nasir struggling to control his emotions at such heartfelt revelation.

Nasir’s eyes dropped to the ground beside him and he noticed the red cloth Agron had tied upon his neck before they had parted ways. It was a simple thing and would have held little importance except that it had been given to him by Agron. That alone gave it meaning to him. He had been intending to discard it as it held no purpose now that there was no concern for minor discomfort when possibility of death lay in pursuing soldiers rather than failed disguise. Yet the reminder of the promise made to Agron changed his mind and – recalling how Agron had used it – wrapped it around his right wrist. Once it was secured in place, he tested the movement and was encouraged by his choice at the support it provided his hand. He was not yet fully accustomed to the weight of a gladius and this would aid in building such strength. Grabbing his sword and sliding it into his belt, he stood and Spartacus gave call for all to move forward.

They travelled at a steady pace, exhaustion kept at distance for the threat following them, though Nasir was under no illusion that the three former house slaves were suffering more than those of the ludus. Naevia had to be under the greatest strain, as she had suffered for many weeks even before being sent to the mines. Mira, however, remained near her at all times to ensure she maintain her footing.

“Wait!” Nasir called out without warning and all ceased progress to look at him. Spartacus moved closer to him and was about to speak when the Syrian raised his hand to gesture for silence as his eyes closed in concentration. He pushed through Naevia’s despairing cries and made attempt to hear again what had garneredhis attention: a voice calling for the death of rebels. He did not often hear unspoken words over great distance yet he did not want to consider option that he had merely heard words all could before any other among them.

_Fucking slaves…_ The words were quiet, barely a whisper that would not have been noticed had Nasir not been within such defensive state. His exhaustion also aided in that his own defenses against unspoken words were more easily penetrated. Though such low volume of such strong hatred gave Nasir the belief that the Roman he had heard was still a fair distance away.

“Romans approach,” he spoke quietly and Spartacus nodded his acceptance and called the other gladiators closer.

“Find defensible position to conceal us,” he instructed and the Gauls nodded in understanding and quickly spread out to search their immediate surroundings for such a place. It was Liscus who called out in discovery a short time later and they all ran to him. He stood on the edge of a small depression in the ground covered with a thick layer of leaves and foliage to offer additional cover. “Cover backs with leaves to further conceal body. Keep swords in hand for discovery is yet possible and I would not have more fall this night.”

Most of the gladiators positioned themselves just below the drop in the ground so they would be the first to engage the enemy. Mira and Nasir placed Naevia further away with a fallen tree to her back and they took position between her and any threat.

The rebels remained still and silent as the steps of the Romans pursuing them approached at a slow pace, obviously focusing on a careful search for their targets. Nasir felt his heart beat faster in anticipation and took several calming breaths to maintain his focus. Task was given greater difficulty with Naevia’s own panic rising, her mind now screaming in memory of pain endured by the Romans. Her cries echoed so clearly within his mind that the Syrian was certain others could hear her as easily as he did.

When fear overcame her and she ran, Nasir let out a frustrated hiss. He did not blame Naevia for her reaction, but he had hoped they would have been able to avoid this fight when all were so taken in with fatigue. He dismissed such thoughts as he took sword in hand and joined in his first fight against Roman soldiers.

He swung his sword out to interrupt strike to Fortis’ back and gained attention of the soldier, who reacted with another strike aimed at Nasir with little pause. Raising gladius again to block the downward strike, Nasir was caught off-guard by the sheer force behind the swing. He was accustomed to dealing with powerful blows – having been trained by gladiators to this point who did not soften blows – yet he had never fought while already tired and he had difficulty in gathering necessary strength.

Before his stance could be recovered, he felt hands grab the back of his coat and pulled him backwards and there was enough force in the throw that Nasir’s feet came from the ground and he fell into a nearby shrub. He moved as quickly as possible to regain his footing, noticing how the guard had not followed him but had focused elsewhere. He managed to position his feet beneath him, but looked up to see that Spartacus was delivering the final blow to the last remaining soldiers to bring the fight to a finish for now.

Sighing in anger at how poorly he had fought, Nasir noticed Fortis move close enough to extend a hand to him, an offer of assistance which he accepted and was pulled to his feet just as Mira and Naevia returned. His relief at their safety was cut short as they all heard the calls of soldiers reporting position to other units and they were reminded of great threat surrounding them.

So it was only with a glance of regret that they left their fallen comrade and continued through the woods. Now that they were closer to the enemy, Nasir kept greater focus on words within his mind – Naevia was somewhat calmer now as well, aiding to the ease of the task – and he caught Spartacus’ eyes upon him often.

The Thracian’s expression conveyed he was relying upon Nasir’s ability to give warning again and the Syrian felt a great burden of responsibility. He did not possess adequate command over his talent to be relied upon in such dire situation. He was further encumbered by his fatigue from the activity of the day and his head had never before felt such pain.

He could not remember a time of greater disarray and that alone was distracting to work beyond.

It was only when Naevia’s feet finally failed her that he realized his focus had retreated from his surroundings – a slave’s talent – and he turned to approach the two women, leaning heavily upon a nearby tree. He was approaching the limits of his endurance with greater haste than he desired admitting to.

As the Gauls gave insult to her weakness, Nasir saw opportunity to give voice to a fact none trained within the ludus would not admit to: “She is not alone in needing rest.” While he was fatigued, the posture of the other men told him how they were experiencing similar strain. “ The lack of it sets nerve to edge.” He did not need to make point that such anxiety led to mistakes, which could lead to more death. Realizing that his direct words in bringing the dispute to solution had been a success, they once again moved forward, though their purpose was to find a defensible location to take rest. He walked to Naevia and gave Mira aid in pulling the weakened woman to her feet, then supported much of her weight as they walked.

“Gratitude for your aid,” Mira whispered after taking a few steps. “I fear the Gauls would take Naevia’s life if not for Spartacus.”

Nasir looked ahead to the men deciding their path. It was apparent that they stood displeased that a decision had been made to accommodate the needs of the weakest, even more so since the one with reason to see her freed had not escaped the mines. Though despite their selfish desires, he could not fault them for making attempt to survive.

How many acts had he committed absent care for others in the cause of survival?

Mira looked to him for his silence, though his attention remained on the path. “You hold agreement with that shit Liscus?” she accused. He considered his response with great care, needing words to hold truth while giving balm to Mira’s anger.

“If I held belief that she deserved death, I would not have offered aid in her rescue. Yet choices made in attempt to prolong life should not be held as measure of one’s honor. None would survive such harsh observation.” Mira’s eyes lowered in thought at his words. “Liscus believes Crixus to be dead. Without him Naevia holds no purpose to those who raise sword against Rome.”

“That does not mean she deserves death,” Mira’s voice rose, enough so that Spartacus looked back to them briefly.

“A thing I hold agreement with,” The Rebel leader stated and did not explain further. Mira was intelligent and if given opportunity could realize message he intended to communicate.

“Nasir, Mira, we have found a clearing to take rest,” Spartacus called back to them and they moved with haste to walk beside the Thracian as he led then up a slight incline which opened into a clearing with enough space for all to lay out, but not so much that they could be overrun by numbers if attacked. The surrounding trees offered substantial defense as well. Nasir and Mira lowered Naevia’s exhausted body to the ground and the woman was unconscious as soon as her body was still. Mira sat beside her and took a protective position over her friend. Nasir walked away a few steps and sat down, watching as the Gauls chose their own place to stretch out their bodies.

“Take rest while you are able, Nasir,” Spartacus’ spoke quietly from behind the Syrian, causing the man to tense in surprise. He did not realize the Thracian had approached him. “You have earned such a prize.”

“And what shall you do?” he asked as he noticed how the man seemed to hold no intention of relaxing as the others had.

“I will stand guard while you recover strength,” the man answered.

“You are of mind that you do not require the same as us?”

Spartacus appeared amused at Nasir’s observation, bringing the Syrian’s curiosity to rise of if Agron had told the rebel leader of Nasir’s words toward the man’s mortality. “I know the limits of my endurance very well and will bend to them as necessary. We cannot risk sleep absent guard and you have already admitted to exhaustion inhibiting your own talents.” So he did hold Nasir’s claim of strange ability to be the truth. “Our lives were spared with your warning. You have my gratitude and desire to see your unique gift continue to be of benefit.”

For a brief moment, the dark thought crossed Nasir’s mind that Spartacus only saw strategic benefit of such power as to know thoughts of the enemy. It was quickly discarded though as Nasir recalled time Spartacus had spent training him before he knew of such a thing. Could he hold purpose to rebellion even without hearing words as he did? He had performed so poorly in the fight against the soldiers that he held little confidence in his capability as a warrior. He was no strategist of battle nor was there need for his skill with numbers.

Spartacus seemed aware of the struggle within Nasir. “You claim to have discarded all that Tiberius was, yet slave mind seems to maintain hold upon resolve.” Nasir’s eyes lowered to the ground before him and he heard the Thracian sigh deeply. “As I place no price upon others, to seek such a thing as value with me is time wasted. Know that I do understand why you continue to focus on such and will offer what I have seen in you since you embraced this cause.” Dark eyes lifted in curiosity as well as apprehension at what Spartacus would say. “I see a man of honor not yet destroyed by hardships endured. A fire unmatched burns beneath tempered surface that I would see embraced so as to bear witness to the warrior I know you will become.”

Nasir felt his face burn at such compliment for there was no doubt of Spartacus’ honesty. Failing to find words, he nodded acceptance of the man’s observation and Spartacus walked away to stand guard. Laying sword on ground within reach, he lay upon his side and felt his body quickly fall to slumber.

* * *

Vesuvius rose above the small camp of freed slaves. There were men and women spread out within a large clearing while gladiators stood guard against possible threat.

Agron should be among those resting for he was set to stand guard in the early morning, yet he had been unable to find slumber. His mind was filled with unending thoughts of those who had traveled to the mines. He was torn in such thoughts, caught between his loyalty to Spartacus and his desire to see no more he stood responsible for fall to the fucking Romans.

Yet the one he had sworn to protect had joined futile attempt on the mines…

How could he have made such grave error in understanding Nasir? He had truly believed the little man to never waver in concealing truth of Naevia’s fate – for he had stood as body slave and no other position required greater secrecy – and he held full expectation that the Syrian would remain at his side to Vesuvius. Yet he had been incorrect in manner that held such grave possibilities for Nasir.

“Fuck!” he cursed quietly as he stood and moved to the edge of camp. He nodded to the nearby guard, indicating that he would assume task in hopes that he could dismiss thoughts in place of obligation. Yet he was mistaken as some time later his mind was as troubled as it had been before.

Should he have stood with Spartacus and Crixus? Would he and those following him have made difference between success and failure? If Spartacus did fall within the mines or on path to Vesuvius, what would become of the rebellion? Could Agron lead these people as Spartacus had intended while he yet held the belief that house slaves would never be an army?

Not even Nasir’s quickly blossoming skill with blade convinced him he was wrong.

“Fuck the gods,” Agron cursed again, somewhat louder in reflection of his growing frustration with seemingly endless questions absent answers.

Movement from within the camp nearby gained his attention and he turned to see the woman Nasir named Chadara approach him. The Syrian had spoken often of the fellow slave and the friendship they shared, yet the German had never broken words with her. She looked to him in curiosity as she approached quietly so as to not disturb others sleeping nearby. She sat beside him, yet remained silent for a few moments.

Agron had never held any notable measure of patience – even less since the fall of Batiatus’ ludus and his loss – and he broke the silence. “If you hold desire, break fucking words or leave me to task,” he growled. Unexpected response came in form of a smile.

“Gratitude for presenting reminder that it is not Nasir I speak with,” she voiced her amusement. “He possesses a talent with silence and could refrain from breaking words until sun stood at its highest point.” Agron held no difficulty in believing such claim. The Syrian was careful in all words spoken and appeared to hold no value in conversing absent purpose.

“Yet you came to my side in his absence?”

Chadara’s smile faltered slightly. “I hold concern for his return, as you do. I only thought to share burden. There are no others who hold understanding of him.”

Agron turned to face her fully at such words. “I do not claim to understand the little man. My failure to anticipate his choice to follow Spartacus to the fucking mines holds proof of such.”

Slim shoulders lifted in dismissal of his response. “I did not expect him to take such path either. His hatred of that place runs as deep as your hatred of Romans.” Agron remained silent, hoping the woman would reveal something of the Syrian he did not know. Nasir was slow to trust him with details of his life and he would not deny his curiosity to run deep. “He spoke of a time he accompanied Dominus to the mines.” Agron nodded, recalling the words to Spartacus and Crixus he heard as Nasir chose his path. “Reason for visiting the mines was to deliver the previous body slave Nasir was to replace. The man had served Dominus for many years, already holding position when I came to the villa years before Nasir. Yet such loyalty did not protect him from the beautiful Syrian child proving to possess greater skill in duties of a body slave.

“Nasir had only just reached his fifteenth year when Dominus took the two to the mines. They returned the next day and Nasir was elevated to prominent position. He performed tasks with the same level of proficiency, yet it was many months before shadows left gaze. He revealed to me soon after that he would never again witness another condemned to such a death.”

Agron thought over what he had learned of Nasir and it was suddenly no longer unexpected that he would offer aid to see Naevia freed from the mines. “He places blame for former body slave’s fate upon self,” he voiced the realization. Chadara remained silent and thoughtful, as if she had to consider his words.

“If you had made such claim while we yet stood in service of Dominus, I would have found amusement at foolishness of the thought. Yet Nasir is proving to be very different from Tiberius. He is apparently of the sort willing to die for his beliefs, a thing never considered by a slave wishing only to survive.” Chadara looked up to him and observed him carefully before giving him a sly smile. “Perhaps he will even follow advice given before parting ways concerning his desires.” Agron dismissed the notion of asking for clarity on such words.

“He may be willing to give life for Naevia’s rescue, but I would not see him fall,” he declared, realizing this was the choice he should have made long ago instead of struggling with his guilt. “Gather the gladiators and any able to wield weapon. We move to meet with Spartacus,” he gave order and Chadara appeared about to question decision but he stood and walked toward his belongings to prepare for travel.

As he was rolling up his bedroll, he paused and reached into the folds of his sack, pulling out the small item he had ensured remained nearby since parting with Nasir: the slave’s earring. While it was a symbol of slavery, it had belonged to Nasir and that was all Agron had needed as reason to keep it until he saw the little man again. He closed his hand tightly around the wooden stud, feeling his resolve solidify within his heart.

This was truly the correct path. His choice to separate from Spartacus had been fueled by fear of losing Nasir, but now he would do all in his power to mend such mistake.

He would see Nasir returned to his side and never again be parted as long as his company was desired.

* * *

Pain…

Such great pain filled him that all other senses were overwhelmed.

A second attack by Roman soldiers had put them at even greater disadvantage: another of the Gauls had fallen in the fight and Nasir life would soon fade as well. Sword had pierced his body just below his chest deeply and now blood flowed freely down his hip and left leg. He had made attempt to staunch the flow of blood, yet strength had failed him with haste as the location of the stab kept his breaths shallow and on the edge of unconsciousness.

He had already been to such condition when Spartacus had deemed it too dangerous to remain in the clearing surrounded by fallen soldiers with more spread through the woods. Nasir had been prepared to give instruction to leave him as well as the dead – he held certainty that he would not survive such a wound and would not have others fall in attempt to give aid to lost cause – when Spartacus grabbed his right arm and pulled the smaller man upright enough that he could support his weight. Mira quickly moved to do the same on his other side. The motion pulled another hoarse scream from his throat as the wound further separated at being stretched so.

_He will not be lost…_

_My life is owed to him…_

_I will see him to safety…_

_Yet another to weigh our steps…_

_Fucking Syrian should be left to perish…_

_The boy will bring death to us all…_

_Agron will strike me to the afterlife for allowing such wound to be inflicted…_

_I have failed him…_

Nasir had never experienced such an assault of unspoken words and the effect upon him added even greater pain to his failing body. He had come to rely on the silence of gladiator’s minds, for he rarely heard it with their disciplined minds and tendency to speak their opinions freely. Such strength caused thoughts to echo through Nasir’s unprotected mind to bring even greater pain than what was felt within the mines. He was weak though, and could do naught but endure until his wound pulled him to the afterlife.

A sudden misstep from Mira caused her to stumble and Spartacus tightened his grip on Nasir as the woman fell to her knee, having released him immediately. The sudden motion brought a new wave of agony to Nasir and he hissed out a strained “Fuck!” Spartacus maintained his tight grip as Mira recovered her feet and the burden of his weight.

“Apologies Nasir, I do not intend to inflict greater pain. I will be more cautious in my footing,” Mira spoke quickly and with regret. “Endure for yet a little longer and we will reach Vesuvius and the medicus.”

Nasir had no strength to form response, yet her words brought to mind their destination and his spirit lifted. They had not been far from sight of Vesuvius when he had been injured. While he slowed progress, they yet moved with purpose and would soon reach safety.

_Do not give in to pain, Nasir. Embrace it as a warrior. Show us what you are capable of now that you stand as a free man…_

Unlike previous thoughts heard, which passed absent identity of who stood as owner of such words, Nasir knew at once these belonged to Spartacus. Only the Thracian’s unspoken words would take shape as such a message to him.

Curiosity rose in the Syrian: were Spartacus’ silent words given to Nasir with knowledge that they would be heard as they seemed?

The answer held no matter, though. Nasir was reminded that he had gained his wound fighting the Romans. He would continue to fight, even if it was the will of the gods he faced, and his end would not come with ease. He would live to fulfill his promise to Agron.

Renewed determination gave him strength to use his arms and the grip about his body to lift himself enough to move his feet along with those supporting him. He was incapable of more than to drag his feet over the ground, yet it was more than he had given before and that made all the difference to the Syrian. He was making effort to ensure his survival, and he had never failed to survive.

He was able to maintain such effort until he heard a cry of the discovery of water. As his body was dropped to the ground – an indication of how tired the two aiding her were as result of supporting his weight for so long – his hands shifted slowly to rest over his still bleeding wound and he focused on regaining control of his breathing.

He knew Liscus and Fortis desired for him to be left behind, yet he held no concern of such fate befalling him. Spartacus would not allow that such fate to claim him. Spartacus would not allow more harm to come to him after swearing to protect him.

Spartacus’ voice speaking to him and hands upon his face gained his attention and he allowed the handfuls of water being given to him to flow down his throat and sooth the fire of fever engulfing his body. Fingers cooled from the water brushed through his hair and further staunched the heat flowing through him.

_Crixus…You will save this boy as he saved me…_

Naevia’s unspoken words held such conviction that Nasir felt the urge to force his eyes to open and see how the woman would appear with such confidence. Since finding her within the mines, she had remained in a haze of panicked thoughts. To know that some measure of healing from the torture she had brought relief to the Syrian he had not expected. He did not know the woman beyond the time shared fleeing from the mines and descriptions given in the search for her. Yet he could not deny that he deeply wished that she would once again find happiness akin to what she had known while in the arms of her love.

Even while absent from company, Crixus had helped the woman he cared so deeply for.

So focused he was upon Naevia’s unspoken words, Nasir failed to hear the suggestion given as to how Crixus would aid his survival.

He made attempt to form words to question their intentions, but his strength faded again and his thoughts were lost within his pain fogged mind. His thoughts drifted absent direction, flowing between memories of varying meaning to him.

…Sparring with Agron, the large man weakening his blows only slightly so as to further harden Nasir’s resolve…

…Eyes brimming with lust following his every move as he served for a celebration thrown by his master, coin exchanging hand for the Syrian’s body…

…Spartacus giving instruction in how to turn his hips into strike to increase power without sacrificing energy…

…Agron sitting at his side, asking his name…

…His dominus piercing his ear with the wooden stud of his position, speaking of his expectations of his body slave…

…Mira offering understanding of having been raised as a slave…

…Agron’s hand upon his cheek, fingers barely brushing into dark hair and gentle gaze upon his face…

…Tychos falling to the ground, his throat deeply slit…

…His dominus’ hand upon his back, pressing him to the bed as he always did when he felt urge to fuck ass…

…Crixus extending hand of friendship…

…Chadara encouraging him to pursue his desire for Agron…

…Speaking words of promise to Agron before they parted ways...

Hands pressing strongly upon wound interrupted memories and Nasir was able to reclaim small measure of focus as he inhaled suddenly in response to the rise of pain. He could hear Mira and Spartacus breaking words, though he could not be certain of what was said. His eyes opened slightly, attention immediately being drawn to the flicker of a small fire beside him. Held in the flames and glowing with heat was Spartacus’ gladius.

“What are you doing?” he managed to gather enough strength to speak, though his voice was weak.

Spartacus and Mira both looked down to him, their eyes revealing their shock at seeing him awake. The Thracian breathed in deeply before responding, “We must close your wound.” And they intended to do so with fire pressed to flesh. Nasir had witnessed slaves being branded by their masters – his own dominus had favored the method when the Syrian had yet been a child – and knew how much pain he would need to endure to increase his chance of survival.

His eyes moved to Spartacus’ branded arm, extended to hold the blade in the fire. The same mark often caught his gaze whenever Agron would reach for him: it was a mark of strength and brotherhood. It was a symbol of loyalty and showed that those who bore it held place where they belonged.

“I am to be branded with fire…” his voice failed as his words caught upon dry throat and he coughed weakly, the movement pulling on his abdomen painfully. The pain, however, aided him in maintaining his focus. “…As a true gladiator would.”

Spartacus did not falter, instead offered words of agreement in Nasir’s comparison. “You have earned your place amongst the brotherhood,” he declared, his thoughts echoing the sentiment. Such response gave Nasir strength in preparing himself for the flood of pain he was to experience.

Naevia took seat at Nasir’s head and held out a stick for the Syrian to bite into and he accepted the offering. Mira and Naevia then placed restraining hands upon his arms and torso. He attempted to control his breathing in his growing fear, though found it a much more difficult task than any control he had ever before had to exert.

There were many parts of Nasir that yet responded as a slave, reactions that may never fade for the rest of his life. Yet this would not stand as one of those times. He would not act as Tiberius would by disconnecting from harmful actions against him. He would do as Spartacus had asked of him and embrace the pain. In doing so he would be reborn through the fire. He would become the warrior Agron and Spartacus claimed to be within him. He would no longer be restrained by fear and assumption of where his limitations lay. He would learn his limits through discovery then surpass them and would stand as equal to any who would threaten him.

“Do not cry out,” Spartacus spoke again and Nasir took one final calming breath before heated steel pressed to wound and his flesh burned. His gasping breaths were the only noise he allowed to pass his lips and he maintained gaze with Spartacus, his eyes aflame with determination while all he was aware of was the pain in his side overwhelming all else.

It was because he was so focused upon keeping his gaze locked with Spartacus that he realized instantly when he could no longer see the man before him. He could feel so much more than the pain of his body, but took in everything surrounding him. He could hear the breathing of the three people in his company and knew of the fear they held for his survival. Sealing his wound would not guarantee his life and they did not wish to see him fall to the afterlife. His mind extended further from his surroundings and followed a path he could not see, some force pulling him along. He felt as if there was something that was to be revealed to him and he held no command over his ability to discover what it was.

His answer came in the sound of battle came to his awareness, the minds of Liscus and Fortis echoing through him with all else he knew of. They were caught in yet another fight with Roman soldiers, their bodies failing for their exhaustion. They would not succeed in battle for much longer in their current condition and they knew it as well as the Syrian did in that instant.

_…Fucking slaves…_

_…We cannot win this…_

_…Die you Roman shits…_

It was with such unspoken words and cries of battle that Nasir was drawn back to his body and true surroundings. His teeth clenched into the stick tightly to keep from crying out as a pain unexpected and sharp suddenly came to his awareness around his right eye and down his cheek. It was with this sensation that his body and mind failed him and he knew only darkness.

* * *

Agron’s hope was failing. If any had escaped the mines – even if there had been injured among them – they should have travelled far enough that one of the rebels spread through the forest should have found trail of their passing. Yet no fucking trail had been found to indicate any person had passed recently.

Only those able with sword had accompanied Agron in retracing path taken the previous day – other untrained freed slaves remained at the camp – and they searched while within sight of each other to ensure safety of all. This meant they could not cover as great of an area to search for their allies.

It was of greatest fucking frustration to the German.

He came to a stop and looked around, yet his attention was no longer on his surroundings. Did none survive the mines to make his effort – late though it was – worthwhile? Spartacus, Mira, Crixus, the Gauls following the former Champion, Naevia…

…Nasir…

His attention truly drifted from those around him as he considered the little man. There was much between them, a connection made when they had first broken words. Such feelings had grown with every following conversation for both men, of that Agron was certain by how Nasir accepted his touch. Agron had believed that Nasir would make for an adequate replacement for Duro in the German’s life: one to push to get stronger while he kept watchful eye and resolved all conflict beyond the other’s capability. He had even given voice of his intention to look after the Syrian to the man and words had been accepted. Yet within the span of days, Nasir had displayed a deep resentment of Agron implying in any manner that the boy needed a guard. The Syrian had even raised his voice in frustration during training for all to witness, giving command to “Lay fucking blow or I will find worthy opponent willing to inflict bruise.” Such words had shocked Agron for many reasons: it had been the first time any heard the Syrian raise voice or cuss so, and even other gladiators avoided speaking such insult against the beast from East of the Rhine.

Duro had held irritation with Agron’s protective nature, yet he never told his brother with conviction to not defend him. He had even appeared to rely on it as a final defense when he found battles he could not win. Nasir was not like this. If he did not desire to follow Agron’s lead, he would dismiss the man – usually ignoring the German for many hours afterward for good measure – and would pursue choice of his own. This did not anger Agron as it would have if it was his brother, but instead filled him with pride at seeing more of the little man’s true nature emerge. It was even of greater satisfaction since Nasir appeared somewhat unaware of such actions.

This was truly a man who could stand as Agron’s equal, his existence giving balance where it had never before been known.

Nasir could never be Duro and Agron had been foolish to believe so for even a moment.

Such foolishness would be remedied once they were reunited.

“Agron, we have found a trail,” Donar’s voice called from his right hand he turned to his friend, moving quickly to determine if it was cause for hope to swell again. He came upon obvious disturbance in the ground, at least three people moving in the same direction, Vesuvius directly before the path. Looking to where they had approached from, he guessed an evasive route had been required. Such explained why they had not yet encountered them.

“Let us find who travelled here. Keep weapons at ready in case it is Roman shits we follow,” he gave command, yet he held doubts of it being so for all sets of footprints were absent protection of any form and he knew Spartacus had departed in such manner.

They all moved with refreshed purpose, having a tangible thing to follow. Not far after the point they had discovered the trail, it changed and a fourth set of feet was added, though it was obvious this person was being supported by others. The morning mist was heavy and it slowed progress slightly, but they continued undeterred.

“Movement sighted!” their forward-most man called back and Agron moved with even greater haste now that answers were within grasp. He ran until he laid eyes upon those they pursued: Spartacus and Mira faced them with weapons raised, blood covering their bodies and eyes burning with determination to cover exhaustion. They had not been anticipating allies and so were prepared to fight to their end.

Agron could not keep the relief from showing on his face as a wide grin spread across his lips. His two friends required more time for their shock to fade enough for relief to overcome them as well, Mira breathing in relief and Spartacus’ blade lowered to his side. It was only as Agron approached that his eyes fell behind the pair and realized there were two more supported against a tree. So Spartacus and Mira had been positioned as protection over the battle inexperienced Naevia and the unconscious and greatly pale Nasir.

Agron was certain his heart seized in chest at the sight of the Syrian in such state. He could not even discern motion of breath from the little man’s hunched position and heavy clothes made it difficult to identify any wounds that would explain his condition.

He walked past Spartacus, clasping his brother’s shoulder in greeting as well as relief and nodded the same to Mira, then closed the remaining distance between him and Nasir. It was only at such close distance that he could see the long tear in the coat at the abdomen and the blood that stained the length of Nasir’s clothes on the left side. Had he truly been stabbed as Duro had been?

Agron took a knee before Nasir and realized what made this man different. Unlike Duro, the Syrian still drew breath. They were shallow and weak, but they were there.

Nasir was alive!

His hand reached out and gripped Nasir’s pale chin – their skin closer in color than they had ever been – and lifted, hunching down even more to lay sight upon the face he so longed to see. His eyes were drawn immediately to Nasir’s right eye and cheek, for a long cut beginning above his eyebrow travelled down past his eye along the side of his nose and ended about midway down his cheek. Agron could not see how a sword would have left such a mark by the path it took. Such mark would leave a scar.

This could not, however, distract Agron from dark brown eyes opening to gaze at him though such gaze was unfocused and Agron was uncertain if Nasir even realized it was the German before him. He was about to speak to identify himself when Nasir granted him a rare gift: a smile of happiness as wide as his tired mind and body could manage. Agron made attempt to return the smile, but found himself unable to form such with the many emotions working through his mind and body. So many in fact, that he could not even put name to many of them.

What was apparent to Agron, now more than ever before, was that there was something between them. At first, he had been content to remain near the boy to offer guidance. Then he had given in to desire to know Nasir as the Syrian grew to know himself, such revealed a complex individual who experienced life through layers of emotions. Now, Agron would never again see them parted as they had been, for Nasir was of greater importance to him than any other in his life had ever been. So much that he would have no other but Nasir for the rest of his days. Nasir would be everything to him: friend, companion, brother-in-arms, and if such affections were returned he would become devoted lover.

Determined to make such feelings known to Nasir once he was again upon feet absent aid – too much time had already been wasted between them – Agron finally turned to Naevia, who yet remained at Nasir’s side. He had never truly broken words with the woman, but now that opportunity was presented his was muted by guilt.

Shaking his head to clear such emotion away until he could break sincere words in private, he instead said, “Gratitude, but I will watch over him now.” She hesitated, looking as if she desired to deny his request to leave them, but then turned her eyes to his hand which still lay close to Nasir’s face. “Speak with Donar and he will see you to food and water.” She nodded then and stood, turning to where Donar still spoke with Spartacus and Mira. “I am relieved to know effort was not wasted in freeing you.” The woman paused, but did not give response and walked away.

Agron would make amends with Naevia once Nasir was seen back to health.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll outright admit that when watching the show for the first time, the sudden appearance of the cut on Nasir's face bugged me to no end, especially when there had been pretty good consistency on wounds to that point. That it was obviously a real injury on Pana and even after hearing what happened didn't really help the irritation that they didn't do something really simple to excuse it. So here was my working it into the story of what happened, though my Beta will tell you of the deciding process of what I would end up doing. I chose this route for the challenge and why include special abilities if you aren't going to use them. (To satisfy my detail driven brain when watching, I just tell myself that Spartacus dropped him onto something. :) )  
> Thank you for all the kudos and for everybody who is reading and enjoying. Let me know what you think.  
> See ya next time!


	5. Libertus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promise is kept: Agron and Nasir stand reunited...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Chapter Word Count: 7,102  
> Beta: AkinaSky  
> A/N: Gratitude for the kudos and comments and for all those reading that don't say anything. Half way through Vengeance with the awesome half to follow...as far as Nagron goes anyway :). Enjoy

Nasir was alive, yet he was still in danger of falling to his wound. His skin was ashen and fever would be taking hold soon. Agron was anxious to start moving toward the other camp, as that was where the medicus was and he wished to see Nasir properly cared for. However, he also recognized that those who had fled from the mines had no strength and so they were taking food and some rest before setting to path.

Agron did not move from Nasir’s side, taking seat beside the still body of the Syrian with his arm about slim shoulders to offer any heat from his body he could to encourage healing. He did not know how much time had passed with the two of them positioned so while left alone, but soon Mira arrived with a pouch of water and cloths gathered from bags. She kneeled at Agron’s side and held the items out to him.

“We have not had opportunity to clean his wound. Spartacus also fears that having to carry him upon shoulders may have reopened wound,” she gave explanation, though did not give details of the wound itself. “I thought you would rather deliver care than have another’s hands upon him as yours are the only ones he favors.”

Unable to form a response, Agron nodded his acceptance and reached out to take the water and cloth. Mira remained at his side as he shifted position, using his arm already holding Nasir to move the Syrian away from the tree’s support to lie upon the ground. Such movement was enough for the little man’s breath to quicken in pain and dark eyes opened and looked up to Agron’s face, who gave a comforting smile in response.

“Your wound must be cleansed before we take leave to join the others,” he explained, his voice soft and calming in a manner he had never before spoken in. Nasir nodded his understanding and his eyes again closed, but his body remained rigid in anticipation of what would be more pain upon his already exhausted body.

Agron moved his focus to the heavy coat that covered Nasir’s body and he breathed deeply to calm his heart as his hand reached out to release the clasp of the belt around Nasir’s hips, then lifted the blood-soaked material from the man’s body. He pulled it over Nasir’s head to remove it completely, not intending on keeping such filth upon the Syrian’s body any longer. Only once the garment had been tossed aside did Agron at last look upon the wound Nasir suffered and his breath caught in his chest at the sight of burned flesh surrounding a long cut in his side just beneath his chest. It was obvious the wound had been the result of a stab instead of a swinging blade. Agron’s concern grew as he realized how much more damage there could be other than the split skin and burned flesh holding risk of infection. It was impossible to know with certainty that blood did not yet flow with so much already staining Nasir’s torso.

A touch to Agron’s arm just above his brand brought his attention to the woman beside him, her eyes showing him that she felt sorrow at Nasir’s injury as well. He found such knowledge calming and he was able to reign in his rising anger that any Roman shit would dare to inflict such pain upon Nasir.

Reaching out to take a cloth, he held it out to Mira and she poured water over it to soak it. Before touching the cloth to bloody skin, he took the pouch from Mira and held it over the wound and poured what remained over the Syrian’s torso to remove as much blood as possible with running water. He returned the empty pouch to Mira, who took it and left to fill again as Agron began to press the cloth to the edges of burned skin. Nasir’s breath caught briefly and the muscles of his stomach clenched, but he soon managed to relax again as Agron continued his task. His breathing remained labored though as the only indication that he was conscious and taken with pain.

Mira returned soon and readied another cloth as the one Agron used was already almost covered with blood and dirt. They switched cloths quickly and the gladiator continued, gradually revealing gruesome wound which would leave a scar unmatched by any others within the rebellion even among the gladiators.

They had needed to switch cloths many more times before the wound appeared clean and the surrounding skin was cleansed as well. Leaving Nasir’s chest uncovered for the moment, Agron reached up to Nasir’s face and wiped the cut upon his face clean as well.

“What caused this cut?” Agron asked, unable to ignore his curiosity over such strange mark any longer.

Mira did not answer immediately and Agron turned to her, his eyes demanding response. “I am not certain what happened. I only noticed it after we had sealed wound and had encountered Roman soldiers again and Liscus had fallen.”

He sighed in frustration as he realized he would need to ask Spartacus about it. He had already held intention to speak with the Thracian over how Nasir had been so severely wounded once safety was ensured, and it seemed he would have to ask about this other wound as well. Dismissing his curiosity for the moment, he gave other instruction, “Would you find cloak for Nasir to wear? I would not see fucking slaver clothes upon him again.” Mira nodded and walked away again. Agron turned back to Nasir to see the Syrian had opened his eyes again and was watching him, gaze clearer now than before. “You should take rest to aid in healing,” he spoke quietly again, though he held desire opposing his request to hear Nasir’s voice.

“Rest will come regardless of desire,” Nasir’s voice was rough and strained, but Agron could only feel joy at hearing him speak at all. “I feared promise made upon our parting would not be kept.”

“Concern is obviously misplaced as we set eyes upon each other in shadow of Vesuvius. Your word is kept and now I would see us move beyond difficult times to more pleasant future.” Nasir’s face once again relaxed into a small smile and Agron returned the gentle expression. Their gaze remained upon each other in such manner until dark eyes looked beyond Agron’s shoulder and the German turned to see Mira returning to them. “I will lend aid in donning cloak.”

Nasir nodded and lifted his head enough for Agron’s arm to slip beneath him and aided him in sitting up. Such movement caused the Syrian to gasp and his arm started to curl around his body, but Agron’s other hand reached out to interrupt the act. The smaller hand clenched his forearm instead in an attempt to focus his pain elsewhere. Mira kneeled behind Nasir and draped the cloak about pale shoulders, taking Nasir’s free arm and guiding it through the wide opening. She reached for his other arm but Agron shook his head to stop her and she retreated absent hesitation. He moved closer to Nasir, placing his leg behind the Syrian’s back to support his weight and reached around him and placed his hand over Nasir’s, which was still grasping him tightly. He gave pause long enough for the smaller man to relax his grip and shrug into the cloak. Once the cloth was settled into place upon his shoulders, his body lost all tension and relaxed against Agron’s leg.

“He has not taken water in many hours,” Mira suggested as she handed him the pouch of water, filled once again.

Nasir must have still been aware enough to hear the woman’s words, for his eyes were again open and he watched Agron bring the water to his lips. The man drank slowly, the cool water likely to provide much needed relief, for Agron could already feel the rising warmth in the little man’s body. Once the water was drained, Nasir’s body again fell lax against him as if every move he demanded of it drained him of all strength.

“Agron,” Spartacus’ voice called the German’s attention. He looked to where his friend stood nearby, watching the pair. “Is he prepared for travel? I would see him under care of the medicus before midday.”

“As would I. He is ready.” He felt Nasir’s body tense again and assumed he was anticipating being moved once again. Leaning forward so his lips brushed the edge of Nasir’s ear, he spoke softly, “I will carry you and see that no more harm is inflicted.” Dark eyes opened and looked up to him, the movement bringing their faces to such small separation that they breathed the same air. Nasir then gave a slight nod of assent and his eyes slid closed once again. The Syrian had to be quickly using all energy gained from resting as briefly as he had and Agron held certainty that injury would drive him to unconsciousness at first opportunity.

Agron moved once again, extending his left arm along Nasir’s shoulders and slid his right arm beneath bent knees, then stood to settle Nasir’s weight against his chest. It would be difficult to carry the smaller man like this over the long distance they needed to travel, but with the wound in his side he could not be carried upon shoulders for risk of further damage. They also did not carry with them the needed materials for devising a thing to carry him upon.

Agron would give such explanation to any that put him to question, yet such reasons of logic held no comparison to his true intentions: he did not desire Nasir to be removed from his touch. While in his arms, he could feel the whispers of breath against his neck and the warmth of skin along his chest.

He could feel proof that his heart yet beat… 

* * *

 

To find camp of the rebels brought such relief to those who had gone to the mines. Even Spartacus was displaying his exhaustion, his night having been spent fighting, running, and carrying the injured. Mira and Naevia were walking together, supporting each other’s weight as Naevia did not trust any other to come near at the moment.

And Nasir was still curled into Agron’s arms, his breathing relaxed in sleep – or unconsciousness – as he had been since shortly after being settled into the movement of being carried. The group travelled quietly, allowing the injured man opportunity to take rest as he needed, though Agron knew that was not the only reason for the morose air among the gladiators. The mines had claimed many lives of their skilled warriors, including that of the Undefeated Gaul, and those remaining had to consider what this meant to the rebellion. Agron was painfully aware of the impact such loss held over their future, for no amount of warriors freed in Neapolis would equal the skill of Crixus – loathe though he was to recognize such.

Hearing the commotion of the rebel camp before it came into view, steps were hastened to close the remaining distance. One of the gladiators was given instruction to run ahead to retrieve the medicus and inform her of Nasir’s injury. Once they reached the camp, Agron searched for the woman and approached her quickly, then followed as she led him to a stack of blankets and he lowered the body in his arms onto them. Once Nasir was settled comfortably – the man having not stirred from his slumber at being moved so – the medicus looked to the German with an expression that told him she did not desire for him to remain. He hesitated – he did not want to leave Nasir’s side – but stood and walked away, his eyes seeking out Spartacus. He wanted to know what had occurred while they had been split and their next action needed to be determined.

Agron’s eyes searched the camp until he found his brother, the man taking rest against a nearby tree. He knew the man would not be sleeping as there were responsibilities to be seen to now that he had returned to his people. Agron approached and sat beside Spartacus, the Thracian opening his eyes and looked over to the German.

“I would break fucking words of what happened,” his previous anger at Nasir being injured returned at once and he was incapable of controlling such emotions to speak with his friend. It was of aid that Agron had never been of the sort to avoid a subject and would not do so now when answers were within grasp.

Spartacus drew in a deep breath and leaned his head back against the tree. “We gained entry to the mines with knowledge of Naevia’s location with ease. It was once she was found that we met significant resistance.” Spartacus looked to Agron again, his eyes conveying fury seething beneath the surface. “Ashur was among Roman soldiers, free of shackle and lending aid against us.”

Agron growled at the name, recalling all the pain the Syrian shit had brought upon those of the brotherhood. While he had never been stung by the man personally, such treachery was impossible to not despise.

“Crixus remained in the mines to ensure our escape with Naevia. We were pursued into the surrounding woods by Roman soldiers and engaged in battle numerous times.” The man looked past Agron in the direction of the medicus and Nasir and let out a heavy sigh. “We were attacked once again while taking rest. Nasir stood against soldier alone to protect Mira and Naevia and it was then that blade was thrust into him. I was able to kill the man before more final blow could be struck, yet I could not see to his safety as I promised him.” Agron realized that Spartacus was placing blame for Nasir’s injury upon himself – and knowing the man, most likely for all who had fallen. “When it was obvious he would not survive if naught was done, Naevia recalled how wounds inflicted upon Crixus from Theokoles were sealed with fire and we made choice to do such for Nasir. It was his only hope.” Spartacus’ eyes focused upon Agron once again and the German was shocked by the emotion he saw in the man’s gaze. His eyes were filled with pride. “He awoke as we prepared to touch blade to flesh. He made no sound as it was done, keeping our position concealed long enough to make escape once again.”

The satisfaction Agron had been expecting to have from knowing how Nasir had suffered did not occur and he was left with a complex array of emotions. At the forefront was guilt at not acting against his pride sooner. There was also great relief at knowing that Nasir had survived when odds had not been in his favor. His anger remained, though was more focused at the Romans for inflicting such injury. Finally, but just as strong, was pride for Nasir’s display of strength, which surpassed many warriors and gladiators.

Recalling his curiosity of the strange wound upon Nasir’s cheek, Agron voice the question, “What of the mark upon his face? It did not appear to be caused by blade.”

A strange expression crossed Spartacus’ face before again going blank. “I am uncertain of how that came to be.” Agron sighed in frustration; he wanted to know of all that had fucking happened. “Do not misunderstand,” Spartacus interrupted quickly before anger could take hold in the German. “I know of when it happened, just not what stands as cause.”

“Speak plain fucking words,” Agron growled.

“I promise my words are truth. No blades caused that wound. As I pressed steel to wound, I watched as skin parted absent visible attack.” Spartacus took a deep breath, as if needing the pause to collect his own thoughts. “Perhaps cause is beyond what any but Nasir can understand. You should put question to him when he is well enough to give answer.”

“Spartacus,” Mira’s voice called the attention of both men as she approached. “The medicus has finished with Nasir and we are lashing blankets to spears to carry him.” She paused as her expression relaxed into one of relief. “He is not in danger of passing from this life, yet he will need time to heal enough to take up sword again for wound was deep.”

While Agron had been greatly certain Nasir had been beyond danger of death, to hear such words from the medicus allowed all tension to pass from his body. “Fuck the gods,” he whispered at the sensations flowing through him. His eyes lifted to see expressions of amusement pass between Mira and Spartacus. He considered questioning them, yet held back from voicing curiosity at thought that he would not enjoy answer given as it was likely to be teasing in nature.

Conversation continued and turned to how they would proceed toward Vesuvius and what actions may be taken once safe place for camp could be found. Their greatest hope was to find a place they could stay at for a long span of time as they recovered their forces and developed the skills of those among them so strike could be made against Rome. Such quiet discussion was interrupted a short time later by Donar calling to them, telling them of their readiness to continue toward Vesuvius. Agron watched as two of the lesser gladiators lifted Nasir’s resting form between them. A length of cloth was now wrapped about his abdomen, a small red stain soaked through already – evidence of the intensity of the medicus’ examination – and his skin shone with a layer of sweat. The German stood, prepared to return to the Syrian’s side but paused at the movement of Spartacus rising at his side. He had responsibility as Spartacus’ second-in-command which he had denied for too long already to care for Nasir.

Nasir would recover and Agron could dedicate as much time to the little man as was desired.

* * *

Rest did not come easily. Unending pain kept mind and body from full relaxation and the only moments Nasir was unaware of his surroundings was when exhaustion overcame pain and he went unconscious. The constant movement of being carried only brought more discomfort, so when he felt the solid ground beneath him he was filled with relief. He listened to the commotion of people moving about him, focusing on specific sounds in attempt to keep unspoken words from piercing his already pain-stricken mind.

The relief he had allowed himself grew as his focus on his surroundings gave warning that two men again approached him. Anticipating the motion of again being lifted from the unmoving ground, he forced his breathing to remain even so as to control the rise in pain. The sound of the steps changed to fall upon solid stone and Nasir felt walls surround him and he was soon lowered to the ground once again. One of the men who had moved him stepped away as the other came up beside him. An arm slipped beneath his shoulders, lifting him to a seated position, and then another arm reached under his knees and lifted. As Nasir’s head came to rest upon a muscled shoulder, a familiar scent filled his senses.

Agron...

Knowing that the gladiator was once again at his side, he felt compelled to open his eyes. The room he was within held little light yet it was enough to give the Syrian cause to flinch away from it, turning his face deeper into Agron’s shoulder. He felt his body be placed upon a firm and flat elevated surface, a blanket spread beneath him to aid in finding some measure of comfort.

“How often must you be told to rest, little man?” Agron’s voice was as gentle as it was amused. Such tone told Nasir how much more at ease the German was now as opposed to when he had cleansed the wound.

His dark eyes opened again as Agron sat at his side, the man’s hip brushing against the Syrian’s thigh and his form towering over him. It was strange to Nasir to realize he did not feel dominated, but protected by the man’s presence and position.

“Where are we?” Nasir asked his own question. His throat was dry and voice was rough from the strain his body had been subjected to. He was certain he yet burned with fever, but his mind was the clearest it had been since being stabbed. He would take advantage of such clarity and welcome company.

“A temple in shadow of Vesuvius, long ago abandoned. It shall give shelter until better is found.”

Nasir felt his mouth shift into a pleasant smile. “Promise is kept. I am an honorable man after all.”

Agron smiled widely in return, his cheeks dipping at the expression. Amusement passed though and was replaced by another emotion, one Nasir did not immediately recognize for pride was not a thing often directed to him until recently. “Spartacus told me of your injury and how it was received.” Memory of blade passing through his flesh brought current pain to mind and amusement passed for Nasir as well.

“I had hoped to offer more aid in battle before being struck down. Instead I provided only burden to Spartacus in seeing Naevia to safety as Crixus desired.” He could not keep shame from his voice.

Agron leaned forward, placing one hand beside Nasir’s shoulder to support his weight as he leaned further over the smaller man. “Spartacus does not believe you to have burdened hm. His words for you were filled with respect alone for your survival. As would my own,” Agron’s voice faltered with emotion in his final words.

The manner in which Agron was speaking to him now brought cause for Nasir’s curiosity to rise. There was something…different in how the German was speaking to him. There were emotions in his gaze that had not been present the last time they had broken words. Nasir could not identify what was different, could only be aware that there was something there. Perhaps when strength of mind and body had returned he could find the answer.

Focusing all effort and recovered strength in moving his arm, he slowly reached over to place a slack hand on the arm Agron had supported his weight upon, his fingers brushing against raised skin of gladiator brand. “He gave claim I had earned place among the brotherhood. I would not have such honored place wasted upon a former body slave.” He must truly be in need of rest to reveal such doubts, even to one as trusted as Agron. Exposing the weakness of doubt was a dangerous thing to do, slave or freed man.

Agron did not pause in his response, “Then it will be owned by a warrior, one trained by champions and born of battlefield far grander than sands of the arena.”

Once again, a smile pulled at Nasir’s lips. Such expression came to him so easily while in Agron’s company. “I will not disappoint, for I am honorable.”

Agron laughed, though the sound caught in his throat when his eyes lowered to Nasir’s wrist, to the length of cloth yet wrapped around his wrist. The man must have been too focused upon his wound until now to notice such a minor thing. His other hand moved to touch the fabric, fingers brushing warm skin briefly and Nasir’s eyes fell to the place touch was made. “Such a simple thing, yet I could not discard it.” He felt foolish at the admission, but it was not born of regret. Even with Agron so close, he yet desired for it to remain upon him.

Agron remained silent for a brief time before he seemed to find desired words. “I have no further need for it.” That was apparent as his bracers were already kept from the skin of his wrist by another length of cloth. “Allow it to serve purpose as long as you have need of it.” Purpose had been to hold on to the only thing he had of Agron while they were parted. Nasir found that now that they stood together again, he did not feel the urge to part with it. For just while Spartacus had been the first to give him an object to call his own, Agron’s had given the cloth to him absent purpose but to simply give him something. It was a possession, a thing that belonged to him in which he could decide how it was used.

It was an idea no other but one raised as a slave would understand.

The two remained silent for a few moments, Agron’s eyes remaining upon the Syrian as Nasir’s eyes closed to block the light out so pain yet throbbing through head would not increase. Nasir’s arm that had rested upon Agron’s arm had relaxed as well and now lay across his stomach just below the cloth enclosing his wound. Agron’s hand had followed the movement and yet maintained contact with his wrist, the touch bringing comfort to the Syrian.

“Nasir?” Agron’s voice broke the silence, though his tone was hesitant. Brown eyes opened slowly to again look up to the German. “There was but one answer Spartacus could not give.” Agron’s left hand moved from Nasir’s wrist to brush his fingers against the Syrian’s right cheek and the stitches threaded through the skin. Nasir flinched at the touch, the area yet sensitive and he had admittedly forgotten about such minor wound. Agron prepared to question further, though it seemed unneeded as Nasir spoke before words could form.

“Even I am uncertain of what occurred, yet I hold suspicion of truth.”

The medicus treating him had been the only reason Nasir even knew of the gash upon his face. It had taken him a fair amount of time to remember the pain he had only been distantly aware of before he had fallen unconscious when branded. He had used the time he’d been kept from rest by pain to consider what had happened in the woods and – as he had just told Agron – he was yet uncertain.

Nasir’s words brought an expression of frustration to Agron’s face, “Did you and Spartacus make agreement to give answers absent sense?” Nasir breathed a soft laugh at the words.

“There is no answer to give absent difficult explanation,” Nasir made attempt to soothe Agron as he struggled to find words to describe what had occurred in the woods.

His explanation meant revealing his ability to Agron. He had thought that already revealing secret to Spartacus and Crixus would ease his nerves in revealing it to one he was much closer to yet it appeared he was mistaken. He had taken advantage of situation when he had told the other men, haste removing option of conversing in length of the revelation. It had been a strategic choice and he had managed to be of aid, as he had desired.

There was no such opportunity or benefit presented to him now, only the truth and Agron’s acceptance or denial.

There was also no question of whether he should even tell Agron of his secret. The German was the one with whom he held the closest of bonds with and he would have the man know all of who he was. He only wished he could have found reason to tell the man sooner, that Agron had been the first he had revealed his ability to.

He focused upon Agron’s face once more, the man above him observing him with curiosity and care.

“My brother called it a gift, yet I never held agreement,” Agron’s brow furrowed in confusion at the unexpected words, though kept from speaking so as to allow Nasir to continue at his leisure. “He told me that to hear what is not spoken would aid me in survival long before we were taken by Rome.” Nasir knew speaking of his brother would reveal the importance of his words and Agron would consider them with greater care.

After a brief silence, Agron spoke with hesitation, “This is a thing you claim capable of?” Agron’s manner of questioning told Nasir that he did not fully accept such a thing and the Syrian wished he knew more of the beliefs of those East of the Rhine. The people of Assyria put great faith in oracles and seers so it had been a matter of ease to tell his brother of such talent. Germania – a land of battle as Agron gave description – was not likely to hold similar belief.

Though Agron did not appear to be dismissing his words as false and his hand remained as a warm weight upon cheek.

“Words not my own echo through mind,” Nasir spoke plainly. Agron’s silence continued and Nasir felt the first stirrings of anxiety run through him. He did not realize how great his desire for Agron to accept this part of him was until he was faced with such apparent refusal. His first instinct was to remain silent against possible displeasure, yet he ignored the response of a slave. Perhaps giving detail of his abilities would aid Agron in acceptance. “While yet a child, I heard from all around me and did not make attempt to control what I heard unless in market where mind would be overcome with so many to listen to.

“When taken by Rome, I used ability to learn the common tongue and what was expected of me. When I was purchased by the man you freed me from, I had focused all on his desires. So strong was my focus that all voices but his were silenced. Once he passed from this world and I found peace among rebels, I again began hearing unspoken words from all. The first words I heard were from Crixus the morning we trained and I collapsed.”

Agron’s eyes widened at the memory, obviously having recalled how reason given had been doubted.

“To hear words again after many years of silence has been difficult to bear, as pain accompanies every word. In lending aid to free Naevia, the mines and pursuit by Roman soldiers was overwhelming for absence of control. Then injury was inflicted and weakness allowed even more words to enter mind. It was when heated blade was pressed to flesh that I held experience as I have never before. I watched Liscus and Fortis fight Romans from a great distance away, witnessed as though I stood at their side. It was then that I felt skin part just before falling to slumber.”

Agron remained silent though his expression told Nasir of how carefully he had listened to his tale. He did not seem to be ready to dismiss the Syrian, the thought bringing great comfort to Nasir. However, Nasir found that the German’s silence was becoming more difficult to bear as the moments passed. “Agron?”

The edges of the German’s mouth lifted slightly. “You speak in excess when taken with anxiety.” Nasir felt his cheeks flush at the observation. Such deviation from his usual behavior was surprising to the Syrian in its revelation. Agron’s smile only grew at his reaction. “I would hear more when you are recovered. I wish to hear all you have to say of your unique abilities.”

“You hold no doubt of my words?” Nasir had to ask for clarity.

“Words broken between us have always been honest and I see no cause for that to have changed. Also, Spartacus holds belief in you based upon deeds and I would not doubt him either.”

Nasir’s body released all tension at the knowledge that Agron yet accepted him as friend, despite his strange ability. It was such relaxation that allowed the Syrian to realize how great his exhaustion was. Holding Agron’s company had distracted him from pain and now that his mind was recalled to his weakened health, he could not deny that he again required rest. Agron must have noticed his strength fail, for he removed his hand from Nasir’s heated cheek and straightened his posture.

“Will you heed fucking advice now and allow sleep to claim you?” the gladiator questioned in a tone that conveyed tolerance of how long Nasir had refused to do so.

Nasir nodded his agreement with a small smile and allowed the heat from Agron’s body at his side to further relax him until he fell to restful slumber.

* * *

That Nasir slept undisturbed through the night was of great relief to Agron. While he desired to speak further with the little man, he also wanted healing to be swift and sleep would aid in such. Plans made toward attack upon the arena provided much needed distraction, though it was not enough to dismiss tension completely. He knew that Nasir would recover from his wound, yet until the man again stood on his own absent pain reflected in gaze Agron would not be freed of his concern

His discussion with Naevia also weighed heavily upon mind, knowing that the woman did not hold belief that she deserved to be saved at the cost of so many others increased his guilt over the events of the past few days.

How was he to know what action to have been correct when there was blame to be taken in both his deception and honesty?

Yet his confusion did not cause him hesitation in agreeing to aid in freeing the Gaul from slaughter. He would not again allow his pride and dislike of those people to cloud judgment of what must be done for sake of rebellion. Certainly not now when he held a touch of understanding as to why the man had sought Naevia out with such desperation. A debt was owed and he would see it repaid with greatest fucking haste.

Final preparations were being made and Agron was speaking with Donar and Mira while Spartacus gave words of comfort and encouragement to Naevia. Voice the German did not expect to hear again until return called out to them. “Where do we go?”

Agron turned quickly at Nasir’s question and smiled widely upon seeing the Syrian walking toward them, his right arm resting across his wound. His skin had yet to regain healthy color and held a layer of sweat as if fever had not yet broken.

Yet he stood on his own. The Syrian truly held strength to be walking again in such short time following grievous injury which had been inflicted upon him.

Agron called Nasir’s name in his elation and walked quickly to his side, reaching out to touch his palm to cheek once he was close enough for contact to be made, his body crouched low for his eyes to be level with Nasir. The Syrian smiled briefly at him, though pain could yet be seen in his stiff posture. Agron’s eyes lowered to check the cloth wrapped around Nasir’s abdomen, checking for stains of blood, relief flooding him as he spotted none.

Feeling Nasir turn away from him to face Spartacus, Agron lifted his gaze again. “Give me a sword. I would join you.”

Pride swelled in Agron at Nasir’s genuine desire to be of aid to rebellion despite risk. Yet concern caused heart to seize within chest at possibility of more harm coming to him.

He was prepared to give voice to his concern but was spared the necessity by Spartacus. “I would have you rest yet a while longer.” It was a leader’s order, yet was spoken in fond manner. It was apparent how appreciative the Thracian was of Nasir’s tenacity but Agron held certainty that Spartacus did not wish Nasir further injury as well.

Nasir nodded his acceptance of instruction given, though he was obviously displeased by remaining behind. He slid his fingers into silky strands of hair and used the grip to coax dark eyes to turn to him. Once his eyes were upon Agron, a gentle smile again spread across Nasir’s face and Agron felt his heartbeat hasten at such expression.

The Syrian’s beauty was prominent with such open expression directed toward him. Agron had felt attraction and lust for many others through his life yet he had never experienced such strong emotions toward another. Nasir possessed such exotic features – flowing ebony hair, eyes a brown so dark they blended with the black center, skin forever holding color of the sun’s touch, body small yet balanced and powerful – that Agron would never tire of laying eyes upon. Yet beyond his physical beauty – all that any fucking Roman would notice – his mind and heart held their own appeal that drew Agron’s attention and desire. The younger man had known great pain and suffering through much of his life as a slave, yet he held such care for others as was proven by his choice to aid in Naevia’s rescue. He also displayed a swiftly growing sense of self which refused to fall under command of any other, even that of Spartacus.

Agron had made promise he would reveal his feelings to Nasir once he was again upon his feet. Thought of failure in their mission to Capua did not enter mind as he made choice to hold to his word.

“This time you stay and I go,” he spoke, leaving promise to see the other again unspoken. Nasir appeared to understand his intent for he nodded slightly.

Agron closed the remaining distance between them to touch his lips to Nasir’s gently. Soft lips moved slightly into the contact just as Agron pulled away. He did not wish to press his desires upon Nasir, only wanted him to hold knowledge of the depth of his feelings. He would allow Nasir choice of accepting them if desired. He remained close long enough to breathe the same air as the Syrian’s dark eyes remained closed. As he moved away, Nasir’s eyes opened and looked between Agron’s gaze and looking down to his lips. After a brief moment of hesitation, lips lifted into a smile, the expression shy yet true happiness was evident in his eyes.

Agron returned the gentle expression as only Nasir could bring forth from him, looking away only when Spartacus called for attention of others so departure could be taken. He felt great relief at knowing certainty that his deep feelings for Nasir were accepted. They could discuss whether they were shared upon his return.

As the small group of rebels departed from the temple and moved north toward Capua, Agron’s mind remained upon Nasir. The smile of acceptance the Syrian had gifted him with had been the most beautiful expression he had ever witnessed, made even more so by how rare it was for Nasir to reveal his emotions so openly while in the company of so many others.

The little man held such difference from the German that it was difficult to believe they had found a connection at all. While Agron’s temper was swift to rise, such reactions were kept under careful guard in the Syrian. The younger man spoke his heart with moderation, revealing only enough to make intended point. Yet it was such reservation that Agron found calming for it forced him to carefully consider what words were restrained as much as what was spoken. Such talent of understanding Nasir had been developed with haste and Agron now considered himself among the very few who could truly communicate with the Syrian.

This understanding, however, did not appear to work for his own mind. He had not realized the depth of his affection for Nasir until they had parted. It was only when they were absent each other’s company that Agron held suspicion that he held Nasir so much closer than that of mere friend and potential brother-in-arms. It was when he laid eyes upon the man near death that he knew with certainty how his heart beat for Nasir and Nasir alone.

Not even Duro had held as much influence over Agron, though his brother had never made attempt to calm him while taken with rage.

There stood such great difference between Duro and Nasir as well. How could Agron have ever thought that the Syrian would be mere replacement for the emptiness left by his brother’s death?

Agron had always been a man who thrived on action and usually struggled with words. Was it truly a surprise that he had did not see his affection for the Syrian for the love it was? He sighed and refrained from showing amusement at his own thoughts.

Hearing the approach of another, Agron turned as Spartacus moved to walk beside him. He held no concern over his brother’s thoughts of his actions toward Nasir as the man had already expressed a fondness for the little man. Great potential rested within the Syrian – even more now that they knew of ability to hear thoughts – and the rebel leader had taken on responsibility of seeing potential realized.

It wasn’t until Spartacus spoke that Agron realized the Thracian was going to speak his thoughts as friend instead of leader. “I feared ignorance would forever plague you.” Words were spoken with mirth and Spartacus gave the German opportunity to give defense if he desired before he continued. “I understand grief over loss of Duro has clouded heart, yet I would know how you did not sooner make attempt at Nasir’s affections.”

Agron would have dismissed the question if it had been any other but the Thracian asking. He stood as his closest friend and had seen him through the most difficult loss he could imagine any being made to bear. Such dedication deserved honesty and so Agron took a moment to consider answer.

“My desires are for the Syrian claiming name of Nasir, not Roman named slave. I had to know the man before I could know of affection for him.”

“And now that affection is accepted?”

“A thing I cannot answer.” After all, he had never before held another to heart. Spartacus seemed to understand as much.

“Know that I find relief in your actions, for Nasir’s sake as well as your own. Words need not be broken to know he has suffered through his life in manner he may never reveal. You may truly give him tools needed to put such pain to rest.”

“Shall we first return the fucking Gaul to arms of his own beloved? It shall be a tale without rival to tell the one who now awaits my return."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Liam puts it, it's "the kiss that changed the world!" I'm inclined to agree.


	6. Chosen Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present choices affect the futures of many...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Chapter Word Count: 9,610 words  
> Beta: AkinaSky  
> A/N: Thank you so much for every comment, kudo, subscription, bookmark, and silent reading of the story. Of course hearing from readers is beyond awesome, but every time I look and see that another person has at least looked at the story it makes my day that much better. And special kudos goes to my Beta, who gives me just the prompts I need to improve the story. There is about 600 words that weren't there until getting feedback from AkinaSky about how some more internal insight would help make the scene. Challenge was accepted and I'm happy with what came out of that prompt for you all to enjoy.

** Chapter 6: Chosen Path **

 

“Should you not be taking rest?” Nasir looked up from his task at words of Chadara.

He had been spending much of the day going through all clothing gathered from villas and separating them out into some manner of order so as to be of greater ease to find what was needed. Furthermore, task offered opportunity for solitude denied him for cause of grievous wound requiring constant care.

At presence of his friend, he gave a small smile in response before returning to task.

“You sound as medicus with her attempts to keep me upon back,” Nasir replied in amusement. That woman had taken to following his every move from the moment he pulled his body from bed two days past to see Spartacus and Agron off to mission in Capua. He understood the concern of the medicus as his wound had nearly claimed his life and caused him great pain even now, yet he could only tolerate so much attention upon him before his patience was put to test. And with Mira gone to the arena as well, there was much work in need of completion. There was no reason to give task to others when he was fully capable of finishing such on his own.

Chadara moved to his side and sat down nearby. Her mood of late had been distant and Nasir was suspicious of the cause being Rhaskos’ absence. She held hope the Gaul stood as one to be saved from execution, yet nothing was certain until Spartacus returned. While Nasir knew she held little true affection for Rhaskos, she would lose protection she held belief was necessary. He had made attempt many times now to convince her otherwise, though she refused to release way of life she had always known.

“There are others who can do such tasks,” Chadara continued. “You do not stand as the only one able to take inventory of clothes.”

“Of this I am aware, yet none are more desperate for reason to keep from bed. Medicus only accepts obligation to rebellion as reason to keep me from care.”

“And when Agron returns?” Nasir’s attention was truly gained at such question. He faced his friend, who looked back to him with eyes absent emotion. It was not an expression he was accustomed to have directed to him from Chadara. “Will you continue to take on foolish tasks once one providing elevated position is here to offer protection?” the woman’s voice gave as little indication of her emotions as her gaze.

Though Nasir was no longer able to focus upon her strange behavior as he was distracted by how much of her words he held strong objection to. So much so that he had to take a moment and decide which was of greatest offense to address first. He chose to make attempt at maintaining calm words between them.

“What foolish tasks do you speak of? I do nothing that is not necessary to cause.”

“You took up sword and nearly lost life for doing so.” Chadara’s voice rose with those words to at last reveal emotion, though her control was regained quickly. “You are a body slave and should not extend beyond talents of your station.” Nasir felt his temper truly rise at such words and he was certain his gaze reflected such, for Chadara turned away from him and exhaled deeply.

Nasir ensured that his voice did not convey how great his anger was at Chadara’s words, though the controlled tone communicated his feelings with great clarity to one who knew him so well. “I no longer stand as body slave to any Roman and will live in the manner I choose. Risk of injury and death was known to me yet cause is worthy of such. When will you accept that giving your body is no longer necessary now that you stand freed?”

“You claim such, yet you stand prepared to spread legs for second to Spartacus upon his return. You would lay claim to embracing freedom while gaining high position through skills learned under Dominus.” The woman stood abruptly and moved to walk away. Her accusation was made in anger, brought about by her fear of lost position. There was no sense to such feelings, yet she knew not how to handle such feelings and Nasir stood as convenient target for her frustration. She knew that he could bear much before he would give in to the same emotions she suffered.

…Except his patience had already been pressed to the edge and he would not tolerate any insult upon his choice of allowing his feelings for Agron to take form.

“Regardless of injury, I hold no intention of spreading my legs for Agron, especially if doing so is means to position. I did not even desire to be body slave, yet it ensured survival as long as I held value. I take up sword to earn my place among these people and will never again serve one who envisions me as property or mere thing of use.”

Chadara had paused to listen to his words, but he knew she would not accept message he was making attempt to convey to her. She seemed incapable of moving beyond what she had always known. While Nasir had been captured by Rome at a very young age, so young that even the memories he yet held of his land bore no great detail, Chadara had been birthed by a slave and truly knew nothing of freedom.

“You allow your heart to guide action?” She made a sound of derision at such thought. “While called Tiberius, you would never have given in to such frivolous thing as the heart.”

The reminder of Roman name brought even greater fury and Nasir dropped the clothing he held and moved to stand quickly, preparing to voice his response with uncharacteristic volume. Intention was halted though as such movement pulled at wound in stomach and he instead cried out in surprised pain as his arm curled about the bandage to relieve the strain. His anger had taken over and had forced thought of injury from mind.

He focused again upon his friend and saw her concern for him, yet she remained at a distance. “I am not Tiberius. While I shall forever be burdened by memories of Roman slave, I _will_ be the man I should have always been. I _will_ stand as Nasir.”

The woman lowered her gaze at his passionate claim. That words were spoken through pain of his wound made them echo with even more emotion. “Then you stand as greater man than many within camp. You are stronger than I.”

Chadara turned and left the room once words were broken, leaving Nasir to question if he should have made greater attempt to control his temper. For the former body slave to be unable to retain control over emotion as he had, he considered what could stand as cause. Swift rise of anger had been a thing more common to be given display by Agron instead of him and he was unaccustomed to experience. Mayhap he was gaining more than anticipated in company shared with the German. Regardless of cause in display of anger, it was of relief to express such without threat of punishment to shackle choice. Though his side now throbbed – and likely bled as well – from reaction, he held no regret of words broken.

His doubt lay in manner of speaking to his friend, though no word would be altered. This was the life he desired to lead: using skills against Romans, learning to wield weapons so as to never again burden others with injury, making choice of who he held to heart...

…Entrusting another with his own heart.

Chadara had not been wrong in her observation that Tiberius would never act upon heart, though that had been because he had existed absent such. The name forced upon him by Romans had been taken and used by the Syrian to guard sensitive nature as they had made use of his body. Now freed, Nasir was yet capable of compassion for another that was a rarity for one who had been slave as long as he had because of how he used Roman name. His friend had not endured so and she did not know how to interact with him now that he had changed so. She had only known Tiberius.

She was one who could adapt though. Time alone was needed for her to find her path.

He returned to task to give distraction from argument for some time before commotion from temple entrance gained his attention. He was too deep within the building to know for sure what caused such reaction within the rebels, yet there was no mistaking the tone of excitement. Yet he still made attempt to retain control over his reaction of elation and fear at knowing that at least some returned from Capua for there was no knowing who had survived until he laid eyes upon them. He rose from task once again, though held no intention of returning again for many hours, and walked toward answers that lie in entrance of the temple.

His path took him past room of the medicus and he took opportunity to look inside, in which he saw a man unfamiliar to him with Spartacus and Lucius gathered around another unknown man of dark skin and many wounds unconscious and receiving treatment. Deciding quickly that he would answer curiosity once he had answer of the others who had parted for Capua. He would not deny how prominent Agron’s safety was in his thoughts.

Relief quickly filled him at the sound of Agron’s voice addressing the crowd outside, the strength of word’s revealing his health upon return.

Hearing of the death of Rhaskos was discouraging though.

“You suffer no wound,” Nasir called in greeting once Agron finished speaking. He stopped a few short paces from Agron as the German turned to face him, a wide smile spreading across his face. Nasir was reminded of the joy he had seen upon Agron’s face before departing for Capua, for the emotion was witnessed now.

Agron’s eyes quickly looked over Nasir’s body, as if to make assurance of the Syrian’s good health other than the wound upon side beneath cloth bandage. Yet there was nothing of concern for Agron to find. Even the cut upon cheek had healed well, the stitching to be removed the next day.

“The gods favor me, little man,” Agron replied as he approached, including the name in jest though it still brought great irritation to Nasir. The name had been used initially to diminish him and the affection within words now would not remove such reminder.

His response was given with a smile – he could not remove expression from face while yet in the midst of such elation at reunion – yet within words broken would be the first thing he would ask of Agron. “Call me that again and they shall turn from you.”

It was as though both men could no longer keep from making contact with the other as they reached for each other’s face and moved together. Lips connected in the first true kiss they had shared. Agron smelled and tasted of smoke, yet his lips were soft and warm and compelled within Nasir an unfamiliar sensation: desire. Agron’s mouth moved to open, the motion encouraging the Syrian’s to do so as well, and his tongue began a shallow exploration of Nasir’s mouth. The intimate connection was welcomed by Nasir and the unfamiliar desire allowed him to enjoy the act of kissing as he never had before. He was finally able to understand how a kiss could bring pleasure, instead of existing only to serve another.

Yet it was such emotion that brought him to pull away a few short moments later. So overwhelmed was he at emotions new to him that he could not continue and remain upon his feet. Agron accepted his retreat without question, instead moving to curl his tall form so he could touch his forehead to Nasir’s. The gesture served to calm Nasir greatly, for he was allowed to be aware of the man before him alone: to breathe the same air, to feel heat from the larger man’s skin, to see only green eyes before him watching him with care unlike any had before given him, and to know with certainty that Agron held strong affection for Nasir. He was also near enough that he could say with certainty that Agron gained something from this position as well, though it was unclear exactly what it was.

“Greeting such as this nearly makes parting worthwhile,” Agron’s voice was still amused, yet held something Nasir had never before heard from the man. It appeared as though Agron was as affected by their kiss as Nasir had been. “I would have repeat upon every reunion.”

“I would prefer to be at your side and not have need of reunion,” Nasir was shocked by his forward response. Yet the anxiety he had experienced over the past few days was fresh upon his mind and he could only imagine it would only worsen as they grew closer in their relationship.

Regardless of Nasir’s doubts, Agron appeared pleased at his words. His right hand moved from Nasir’s cheek to brush over the cloth covering his wound, the action causing Nasir to tense at anticipated pain, yet Agron was gentle and did not press enough to bring more than discomfort. “Once wound is but memory, I would have it so as well.” Green eyes shifted slightly to check the cut upon cheek and Nasir pulled away slightly so that he could see the full length of the gash. Agron’s left hand moved so he could brush his thumb lightly over the skin surrounding the stitches.

It was in putting some distance between them that Nasir was reminded that they were just within entry of temple and people were moving about them constantly. He did not feel shame at displaying their affection in view of others, yet he was not at ease with allowing others to bear witness to such intimate exchange. He had observed – and ignored – so many moments that should have occurred absent witness that he now found a desire to have privacy in such moments he was sure to share with Agron. The German appeared to be aware of the brief shift in emotions and the man pulled away, allowing the intimacy to fade to a familiar closeness.

Nasir did not anticipate for his chest to seize briefly as distance was made between them, Agron did not move far, yet Nasir could no longer feel the German’s body warm him through touch and he at once felt loss from such absence. However, his desire to keep moments meant for privacy between the two of them and he was trapped between his warring mind and heart.

Was this how it was to forever be: Nasir bearing desires born of the heart while Tiberius yet clawed at his mind? Nasir held desire to be close to the one he held deep care for yet Tiberius offered warning of how knowledge of what Agron meant to him could be used as weapon against him, or worse against Agron.

Nasir held no realization that his eyes had lowered until Agron’s fingers grasped his chin and urged him to lift gaze once more. The Syrian allowed motion to occur and his eyes met Agron’s to see expression of concern rest upon him.

“Your eyes become as fucking shadow,” Agron’s words and tone revealed to Nasir that he had begun to don mask of slave in his thoughts – habit he had yet to attempt to break free of – and the Syrian was certain the gladiator despised such expression as greatly as the wound upon his side. “Break words and I shall see unease put to grass.”

As touch to cheek remained and Agron’s eyes burned with emotion Nasir had never witnessed directed upon him, he felt his anxiety begin to pass. Agron was not parting from him once more, instead was allowing Nasir to determine what was to occur between them now that deep feelings between them had been accepted. He had accepted Nasir’s choice to pull away and had only pressed forward again when Nasir had retreated to allow Tiberius opportunity to emerge.

This was how it was to forever be: Nasir together with Agron to offer one another balance when struggle emerged.

Tiberius held no fucking place here.

Nasir smiled once more, expression giving cause for Agron’s breath to catch within throat briefly, and the Syrian lifted his hand to grasp the German’s briefly. “Remain at my side and shadows will pass absent breaking words upon their cause.” Nasir truly held belief of this to stand as truth.

“Nasir…” Agron’s manner of speaking again revealed the German’s emotion and Nasir knew there to be desire for disagreement.

The Syrian turned his face to press a brief kiss to Agron’s hand. “Thoughts are dismissed and to break words only invites return I would not have.” The German gave words brief thought before nodding acceptance and they fell to silence Nasir now did not wish to have continue and he made decision that he wished to gain knowledge of what had occurred during their separation. “Who is the man with the medicus?” Nasir allowed his curiosity to guide conversation. Agron glanced behind the Syrian toward the medicus’ room, then stepped close enough to rest his arm across Nasir’s shoulders and used the contact to guide him back into the temple. They paused outside the room, which was yet brimming with activity.

“He is Oenomaus and he stood as Doctore for all gladiators here.” Nasir had heard much about the man from Mira and other house slaves from Batiatus’ villa and he found that he already held great respect for a man of such honor. He held hope that the medicus would succeed in treating the man so he could meet one who had shaped Spartacus, Crixus, and Agron into people he chose to follow.

Spartacus looked to the pair and walked toward them. Once he reached them, they all moved further from the bustle of the room into privacy of temple. “You appear to be regaining your strength well, Nasir,” Spartacus spoke once far enough from listening ears, his voice conveying relief.

“Strength returns as wound closes,” Nasir answered smoothly, though he felt a rush of pride at knowing that rebel leader appeared to desire continued friendship with him. “I will once again take regular duties soon enough.”

His promise was answered with raised brow and Nasir grew suspicious of Spartacus’ next words. “By words of the medicus, you have already returned to duties that take up time better spent upon healing bed. She claims you have been upon feet throughout all hours of the day since we left for Capua, regardless of any cautionary words from her.”

Nasir shrugged his shoulders slightly, the arm yet about him shifting with the motion. “It is difficult for me to remain still while work is to be done. Mira is the only other within camp with enough skill in numbers to track our supplies yet she was absent as well.”

“An oversight that will be addressed as you both hold great skill in other responsibilities. Yet it does bring me to a subject I find of great importance: your duties among these people.” Spartacus paused with a brief look to Agron, as if he was uncertain of continuing. _Am I breaking his trust?_

Realizing the cause of hesitation, Nasir assured the man quickly. “I broke words with Agron when we arrived at the temple. I revealed to him my abilities.”

Spartacus’ shoulders appeared to release some tension at knowing that he was not revealing Nasir’s secret and continued speaking with a slight nod of understanding. “How stands the manner of your control over knowing thoughts of others?”

Nasir carefully considered his answer, not wanting to give false assessment as such may result in the endangerment of others. “I have only recently regained small measure of control over what I hear. So much yet relies upon the strength of those around me. I hear very little from gladiators as your minds have developed great discipline, yet there are many house slaves of whom I have learned much of. Naevia remains difficult to be near as she yet suffers from memories and weakness of long mistreatment.”

“Once greater control is gained, what may you be capable of?”

“For that I have no answer. I was able to hear all thoughts of my Dominus at cost of never hearing those of any other. I hold doubts that I am capable of such insight while able to hear thoughts of all though.”

“Errant thoughts of few may hold greater value than you imagine. If it is a thing you desire, I would like for your gift to continue to be of use to cause. Know that I will not reveal it to any other and will forever respect your wishes in how such talent is to be utilized.” When Nasir remained silent and his expression conveyed his hesitation in giving response, Spartacus continued. “I do not ask for a choice now, only that you consider path and give answer when you believe yourself ready.”

Nasir nodded acceptance of request and Spartacus gave them one final smile before returning to room of the medicus.

The arm about his shoulders tightened and he looked up to Agron. “We must plan our next move. I will seek you out to take meal.” Agron hunched his tall frame over and leaned forward to again touch his lips to Nasir’s. The Syrian straightened his posture to meet the gesture and his body once again flooded with heat. His hand reached out on reflex of steadying himself and rested upon the skin of Agron’s stomach, the muscles flexing at the unexpected touch. The kiss was kept brief though and Agron pulled away, then moved away to follow Spartacus.

Nasir inhaled deeply to shake off any remains of pleasure from intimacy and turned to return to task of sorting and taking inventory of supplies. While he had before thought to be put to different task with the return of those from Capua, he now found comfort at the familiar task so that mind could be freed to consider both his place within rebellion and at Agron’s side. 

* * *

 

 

 

Nasir followed Agron into the temple, the man’s anger easing such a task as it took only a moment for others to part from path of the German’s well-known fury. Nasir had not expected Agron and Crixus coming to terms to be easy task, yet he had thought that there would have at least been willingness to make attempt. Agron had certainly been genuine in his desire to settle dispute so Nasir was now curious as to discover what had brought the men to blows again.

The Celt, Gannicus, was correct though: the threat against each other was graver than that of Rome. As long as these two were at odds, the rebels would stand divided as well.

Agron stopped deep within the temple, not far from where Spartacus’ room was, and pulled aside cloth hung to keep out gaze of others. Nasir continued to follow the man to what was obviously area that had been claimed for Spartacus’ second-in-command. His bedroll was laid out along the wall and there were small gatherings of clothing and supplies strewn about. It was not so much a room of disarray, but of a man who lived in haste.

Nasir remained at the curtain as Agron stood at the wall beside his bedroll and leaned his forehead against it, as if to calm self with coolness of the stone. There was a few moments pause before his right hand pulled back to strike the stone, bringing the Syrian quickly to his side to grasp the man’s arm. He knew he could not keep the tall gladiator from striking out if he desired, but held hope that his touch and voice would be balm to Agron’s anger.

“I do not wish to treat injury inflicted upon self,” he said, his voice a strange blend of calming concern and patient tolerance. Agron looked over his shoulder to the Syrian and let out a heavy sigh. He then turned his towering form around to place his back at the wall to lean against it, his arm slipping from Nasir’s grasp with the motion. Loss of contact was brief though as Agron’s hand lifted to touch Nasir’s neck and pulled him close. Following the motion easily, Nasir rested the length of his right side – wound upon the left of his abdomen was yet sensitive to pressure beyond bandage concealing it – along the German’s body, his own hand lifting to grip the cloak Agron wore at the man’s hips, a habit he had formed quickly over the past two days as it was comfortable while standing together as they were. He felt Agron’s lips brush his temple before cheek rested upon his forehead, Agron’s nose surrounded by his hair so that he could breathe in the scent of the Syrian to help calm him.

“Crixus continues to hold you at fault for our deception?” Nasir asked though he knew answer.

“Fucking Gaul,” Agron muttered. “A more honest apology could not be given yet he ignores it to allow hatred to endure.”

“As you continue to give curse to his people,” Nasir pointed out, aware that such words from any other would have been answered by being struck down upon ass. “Yet anger is not for lie alone or I would be held to blame as well. I have had opportunity to break words often with Naevia and memories haunt her deeply. I believe Crixus is uncertain of how to aid her in recovery. Confusion makes familiar hatred of greater ease than building new friendship despite benefit.”

Agron remained silent as words were considered, grateful that one as understanding of others had been the one he held to heart.

Without meaning to, Agron’s mind became distracted by his own words to Crixus. He had admitted that Nasir held his heart, that he felt more for the Syrian than he had ever felt for any other. He truly did understand Crixus’ anger now as he had previously been incapable. It had been the first time he had given voice to such feelings and so Crixus’ refusal had hurt him in manner that was not connected to their continued animosity.

Now with Nasir in his grasp, he knew that it did not make difference what Crixus believed, he would continue to make attempt to settle dispute between them. He would not allow the Gaul’s anger toward him risk rebellion and those within it.

Bringing his other hand to Nasir’s chin and lifting the Syrian’s face, he pressed their lips together. Nasir responded to the kiss immediately, opening his mouth to Agron’s tongue. Taking in the taste of his heart, Agron felt the hand near his hip move to lie upon the skin of his stomach and he breathed in at the heat such contact caused within him.

To not act upon his desire for Nasir was a task of great difficulty that grew more so with each intimate touch shared. The wound upon side – which Nasir had not allowed him to lay eyes upon since return despite knowledge that Agron had been the first to cleanse it – was still of concern of tearing and returning Nasir to bed rest. That aided Agron in ignoring body’s urges, yet it was Nasir’s eyes that truly gave the German pause whenever the Syrian was touched in manner that could be connected to sexual satisfaction. Dark eyes would remain open and become distant, as if removed from mind. Such gaze was undesired and was a reminder that Nasir had grown in life of service which had used his exotic beauty for the pleasure of others absent his consent.

It had quickly occurred to Agron that Nasir was likely to have never experienced a pleasurable coupling.

It was a suspicion he had not found words in which to question truth of such thought.

Parting his lips from Nasir’s before he became too infatuated to retreat, he leaned his forehead against the Syrian’s. He had never felt the need to show such affection toward any but Duro yet it had happened so naturally the first time and Nasir appeared fond of the gesture. For Agron it was a thing he did to display emotion when words failed him as they often did.

Reluctant to interrupt such a moment of rare solitude yet knowing they both had tasks to set upon, Agron straightened his back and making Nasir do the same though the smaller man remained close. “I am for Neapolis. I will not be long from your side.”

“I would go as well if wound did not continue to restrain me.”

Agron grinned at Nasir’s frustration and reached out to run his fingers through the long dark hair, the motion dislodging the cord that kept Nasir’s hair secured in place. The Syrian let out a hiss of frustration – Agron had quickly displayed favor for Nasir’s hair to be loose about his face and took every opportunity to have it so – as he reached up in search of the loosened cord and shook out his hair so he could return it to order.

“You will return to see blade taken to hair,” he voiced threat though Agron held no concern of words being put to action. He knew Nasir kept his hair long as it was a remnant of his home land. He had even made passive remark that it would be longer if not for preference of his Dominus.

Agron grabbed Nasir’s hands, stilling the practiced twisting motion which kept the shorter hair at his face restrained. He gave the Syrian a wide smile and released the smaller hands only to take the task they had been set to upon self. He knew how to plait hair, having done so through much of his life as a warrior of Germania. He ran his fingers through soft hair briefly before positioning his hair as Nasir held preference for and tied the cord in place. Once set, he leaned down to claim one last brief kiss.

Once he pulled away from soft lips, he pushed his weight off the wall and pulled away from Nasir, knowing he would find another distraction if he remained and would never reach Neapolis and be able to return before day was past.

“Remain safe in your mission.” 

* * *

 

Nasir awaited the medicus as she treated Oenomaus’ wounds. The man was truly a wonder as he mended from so many wounds of torture and arena and was expected to recover completely. Gannicus stood off to the side, silently observing. The man was difficult for Nasir to gain understanding of and he had yet to hear any unspoken words from him, though he had not made attempt to force thoughts to be revealed.

Agron had returned as expected, bearing information that would guide next action of rebellion. He had revealed what had been learned to Nasir over midday meal and so it was known that they had two weeks before there would again be possibility of separation. With certainty of time until mission, they had begun discussing how Nasir’s training was to progress, now including possible methods of how to improve his unique abilities and incorporate them into his fighting in any manner they could find. Crixus and Spartacus had previously agreed to be of aid in this aspect of his progress as they yet stood the only ones to know of his gift.

The medicus turned to Nasir at last. “I must mix more herbs for your burn.”

Nasir nodded as he gave response, “I had herbs moved to one of the smaller rooms. I did not wish them to be mistaken for food by those unfamiliar with what should not be consumed.” It was a task he had only recently taken on in his endeavor of organizing supplies in this place they would remain within for some time. He made estimation that he would finish such undertaking in time to take up training once again, which had been a determining factor in his choice to do so, for he had need of some activity to occupy his time until more strenuous tasks would be allowed him.

The woman spoke a brief gratitude before taking leave, the room falling still between Nasir, the resting Oenomaus, and the ever silent Gannicus. Holding no expectation for the Celt to speak with him, Nasir turned his focus inward to plan tasks for the following day.

It was only a brief passing of time before words called his attention. “You are Syrian,” unexpected words from Gannicus caused Nasir’s body to tense then wince at the short burst of pain for such reaction.

“I am,” he gave response in even tone. Treatment of other gladiators for his origin came to mind and he barely restrained sigh of exasperation at receiving it once again. “Do you stand as another injured by actions of Ashur?” Having heard so much about that man as he had removed any hesitation the former body slave might have shown previously.

Gannicus grinned at the manner of Nasir’s words. “No, but I have bore witness to the deception he was capable of when he took eye then life of another from his land.” Nasir had not heard of such act and was sickened by the lengths Ashur had gone to for survival. “Crixus has told me of what he has done against those of the ludus since I was given freedom.” Speaking the word of what they all fought to defend brought so much to the Celt’s mind that Nasir heard the first unspoken words from him, though they came to him in wave he could not understand.

Freedom brought confusion to Gannicus?

“I have been curious of your wound.” Shift in topic took Nasir by surprise. Because the Celt remained at Oenomaus’ side at nearly every moment, he had laid gaze upon Nasir’s injury a number of times while medicus delivered treatment to it. Wound was healing well, skin reforming over what had been burned away while wide gash slowly closed, yet progress had been slowed by Nasir’s refusal to remain still. Activity through the day had many times caused bleeding and there were times where it seemed as if no improvement had occurred. For this reason, Nasir had kept Agron from laying gaze upon it as the German would take more fervent opposition to how many tasks Nasir continued to take on.

Nasir considered remaining silent as Gannicus had not actually put question forth, yet he was not so rude, though his words were not kind. “I would imagine one of the arena would know what caused such injury.”

Gannicus’ response was a jovial laugh. He was easy to humor – a rare attitude to be found – and Nasir found uncertainty in how he was meant to respond to such open display. “The little man bears quite the bite,” he gave reason for his amusement. Dark eyes narrowed in anger at the name. He even preferred Donar’s insistence of calling him wild dog to the endearment of his stature. Such anger only appeared to amuse Gannicus further. “I am curious to know how a freed house slave came to be in position to be wounded so.”

“Position held in slavery was that of body slave.” He had been accustomed to correcting others of his position since it was given him. Revelation caused humor to fade from Gannicus and he instead appeared impressed.

“Such elevated position for one so young.”

“One earned many years ago while seeking protection in time when whims of a master bore dire consequence.”

_Position does not protect from all whims…_ Strength of unspoken words were laden with pain having obviously brought forth dark memories within the gladiator and Nasir was confused at the many emotions within the man. Disregarding confusion quickly, Nasir continued speaking with only a brief pause.

“When villa was liberated and my dominus killed for information of Naevia, I began training with sword. When it was learned she was within mines at Lucania, I offered aid as I had been to them previously. Injury occurred while fleeing Roman guards and was burned to keep blood from flowing.”

“You sound as though freedom is of ease to embrace. Slave one day and training with sword the next.”

Nasir lowered his gaze and felt his face flush, grateful that his darker skin allowed such response to not be as easily visible. “Details have been omitted for sake of haste.”

_Or shame…_

It appeared as though the man was keen enough to recognize mild deceit.

“Freedom was not my choice. I may fight for it now, but it was a thing forced upon me, as was training with sword. I desired no such struggle and made attempt to kill Spartacus. The very next day he entrusted me with task that placed safety of rebels within my control. I made choice to act in protection of Spartacus’ cause and have seen it for the correct path of my life. Once able, I will take up sword again for sake of cause I hold belief in.”

Gannicus remained silent for a short while, yet when he appeared ready to speak the medicus retuned and unwrapped cloth about his stomach to expose wound. The Celt rose and walked from the room silently as the woman began cleansing and pressing herbs to inflamed flesh.

Time passed slowly as she worked, Nasir’s focus completely upon enduring pain of hands and cloth pressing continually into injury. Yet pain was not as great now as it had been on previous days, a thing of great comfort to him as it meant he was, in fact, healing. Once fresh bandage was wrapped about wound, medicus turned attention to his face and the cut upon cheek. Quickly satisfied at healing, she removed all stitches from face, then dismissed him with order to return the next morning. This further pleased the Syrian as it would be the first night she did not insist he sleep in a bedroll within medicus’ room. He could at last lay claim to his own place to sleep and keep the few possessions – mostly clothing – he had been given since joining rebels.

He left the medicus with intention to find such place for some long desired solitude when sudden raise of noise and commotion from front of temple echoed through the halls. Altering course, he moved to the source and searched quickly through clamoring bodies for any calm enough to give revelation to cause of panic. Hearing Spartacus pose such question he turned and moved to the Thracian, hearing Donar and Agron give response.

At learning of the missing map and coin, his focus shifted to those around him, searching through unspoken words for any hint of their location. Task bore great difficulty from the panic that took minds of many around him and he had only gained small measure of control over his ability. Pain did not strike with such severity now, allowing Nasir to focus further upon task and hear with ever increasing depth. He dedicated much time to developing his gift through his days as well and such devotion had meant even greater progress in the few days since he had awoken within the temple.

Before Nasir could delve deeply into task, attention of all was directed to Gannicus and his focus shifted to the Celt as well as he came to stand beside Donar with Spartacus, Mira, and Agron. Position placed them between Gannicus and exit so the man was made to answer question of intentions. As questions were voiced and defense was given, Nasir made attempt to determine innocence – he held no desire to see freed gladiator at fault for betrayal – yet the man’s mind echoed only words of leaving this fucking place of damned fools.

As Gannicus turned to Crixus, Spartacus looked to Nasir. _Does he stand to blame?_ Question echoed clearly in Nasir’s mind, a talent the two had been developing since the man had returned from Capua in place of training with weapons during Nasir’s recovery. It had been the Thracian’s method of communicating that he would continue to commit time to Nasir’s development. Nasir shook his head and lifted his shoulders slightly to indicate that he did not know answer with certainty.

As Gannicus’ attention returned to Spartacus and accusation turned to insult, bringing them to blows between the two men, Nasir followed Agron closely. If those he cared for were under threat, he would do all within his strength to protect them absent concern for his safety. He stood at Agron’s back as the German drew his blade and prepared to challenge Gannicus. When Spartacus called for none to interfere, Nasir knew Agron would not remove self from fight as long as his brother stood threatened. It was not about following instruction of his leader, but difficulty in accepting that he could not always protect those he held bond with.

Nasir reached out and pressed his hand into Agron’s clothed back enough to gain his attention, a difficult thing to manage when the German was prepared for battle. “Your sword,” he spoke as manner of reminding Agron that it had been Spartacus that was faced with challenge and Agron held the greatest respect in his friend’s skills in battle. Green eyes turned briefly over shoulder to lay eyes upon the Syrian before his body relaxed and he relinquished his gladius to Spartacus. He then stepped away to stand at Nasir’s side, his hand reaching out to take hold of the Syrian’s arm so he could guide the man to safety if needed.

To this point since joining rebellion, Nasir had never bore witness to Spartacus taking up sword in earnest. He had only set eyes upon the Thracian in training and in their retreat from the mines, Nasir had been either engaged in his own fighting or under affliction of wound. Yet in this moment, he was watching two Champions cross blades in true contest of skill. This was the Slayer of Theokoles Agron warned him of that first time they had broken words and he was facing the only gladiator to stand freed man because of skill in the arena. It was truly a vision of wonder to the Syrian, who had never set eyes upon fights of the sands. It occurred to Nasir that Roman soldiers did not truly present challenge to one as Spartacus, their only advantage standing as the numbers they held over rebellion.

The only ones who could give challenge to this former champion was others bearing such title, as Gannicus did and the Celt was as much of a wonder to watch as he moved about with such a freedom of movement that told Nasir how much comfort the man took from the act of exchanging blows. Gannicus was only confident while sword was in hand and life lay in his hands.

_This must stop!_ Unspoken words from Mira brought Nasir’s focus from the fighting men and he turned to the woman as she lifted a bow and arrow, taking aim between Gannicus and Spartacus. The arrow was released and flew between the men – bringing all movement of fighting to an end – then flew into one of the rebels making retreat toward the exit.

Realizing at once who had been struck, Nasir called his friend’s name and rushed to kneel at Chadara’s side, grasping her hand tightly within his.

Familiar eyes turned to him and Nasir felt a rush of guilt as harsh words broken between them were remembered, words of anger and accusation. They had not spoken since just before she learned of Rhaskos’ death in the arena and was left to discover new position alone. He knew she would not take to weapons as Mira had and so he had been searching for tasks well suited for her to take. He had desired for her to see sense of what freedom meant and no longer seek position, yet it appeared she would never make such realization.

Chadara’s hand went slack in his grip and she was gone to the afterlife.

Now he would never have opportunity to apologize for harsh words or allowing her to reach point where she saw betrayal to Romans as her only option. He held no doubt her choice was greatly influenced by the ease of his embrace of freedom while she struggled. For she had always stood in shadows of his success; she would not have even held favored position with their dominus if Nasir had been a woman.

Fortune had been kind to him from moment their Roman master was struck down. Spartacus favored him for his quick learning of sword. Mira – the rebel leader’s woman – made use of his talent with numbers and supplies. Agron – Spartacus’ second – desired no other than him. Even Crixus had accepted his company while he spoke with Naevia as she checked his wound with great regularity. So much attention ensured he held position – to Chadara’s manner of thinking – while she had lost all security when Rhaskos lost his life.

Nasir would be forever to blame for allowing his friend to fall to such distraught state.

The hand he grasped – skin growing cold quickly with the falling rain – pulled from his touch and he looked up to see Donar lifting his friend’s body. The gladiator would discard her absent regard of propriety for her actions against rebellion! Nasir would not allow such treatment of one he held as dear friend!

Rising quickly – his body dismissing pull such motion of haste placed upon wound – he struck out with a punch to the gladiator’s face. Having not expected to be assaulted so, Donar fell back with Chadara’s body landing atop him. Nasir moved to strike again when a strong arm wrapped about his waist just below the bandage and another wrapped around his chest at the shoulders. He was nearly lifted from the ground in such strong arms as he continued to struggle.

“She deserves a pyre!” Voice was unfamiliar even to own ears in its confidence delivering command as he never before had even felt urge to. “You will not fucking discard her as if Roman shit!”

“Nasir, he will care for Chadara’s body,” familiar voice spoke quietly in his ear as if to calm him. If he were not so distraught by loss Agron would have known success in attempt. “She will be put to rest with care denied her in life.”

“What good is care for the dead? Why show compassion when gesture cannot be experienced?” No answer was given from the man gripping him or those surrounding them. “You waste gift of compassion on ones ignorant and see no fault in doing so. Chadara is more than a trained cunt to spread legs upon command, yet you fucking gladiators only see her as such. How do you stand better than the Romans?”

He twisted in restraining arms, unable to accept touch any longer even from Agron. Action pulled at his injury too much to be ignored and he could not keep from shouting in pain. Agron’s arms moved away immediately and Nasir fell back to the ground, his balance uncertain at being held as he had been.

All about him was still and silent, yet he knew crowd surrounded him still. He remained still as well, his arm curled over wound and breathing ragged as he recovered from pain he had brought upon himself. Pain he deserved for his failure to dearest friend.

Movement at his back gained his attention as Agron took to knee behind him, one leg bent and warmth touching Nasir’s back through the thin cloth of his cloak. Hands came to his shoulders in gentle touch then moved along the length of his arms to grasp his hands. The large body of the German curled about him, warming him, calming him, and supporting him. Tension left his body at such contact and his back formed to the curves of Agron’s chest. Such relaxation brought with it discontent in his stomach and he felt ill at once.

Had he truly just lost control in such manner that he struck one who stood as ally? Had he insulted those who saw to his safety, his very life? All for the grief over lost friend? Was he not supposed to hold authority over his actions at all times for others to see as example of proper behavior?

“I promise you Donar and Mira will see to Chadara. Allow me to see you into temple and to rest. Allow me to care for you.” Agron’s words were spoken in a whisper against his ear and his body trembled at sensation of such concern being shown him. He nodded acceptance of offer and allowed Agron to help him to stand. His legs yet remained unsteady in his emotions and Agron moved slightly to stand at his side, hands never relinquishing grip of the Syrian’s.  With supportive position he walked them both into temple and away from all observing eyes. 

* * *

 

Nasir’s silence was retained as Agron guided him through familiar halls. Such absence of attention concerned the German for it was subservience as he had not seen in many weeks. It was of greater concern as it differed so vastly from the aggressive words toward Donar and other gladiators which had preceded current mood. While of late the Syrian had voiced his thoughts with greater regularity and confidence he had never done so in such insulting manner.

Agron led the Syrian to the area within the temple he had claimed as his own room and pushed aside cloth hung for privacy and ensured that it fell closed behind him. He turned back to the Syrian and moved around the compact form of his heart so they faced each other. Dark eyes remained lowered and vacant, a gaze of which Agron held great hatred for when coming from one he knew to be so vibrant.

Refusing acceptance of Nasir lowering eyes for any, he reached out and touched his fingers to the Syrian’s chin and lifted until eyes focused upon him. Once Nasir’s eyes fell upon the German, the gaze reflected his despair as he lost all control he had regained over flood of emotions. Yet his refusal to allow his emotions to be witnessed continued as he pulled away and turned from Agron. He moved away, busying his hands with pulling the cloth from about his shoulders and began removal of bandage from his waist.

Agron felt pain as if stabbed through chest at Nasir denying him touch. He had always gained comfort from contact with the Syrian, from feeling warmth of life in the man’s skin and knowing such contact was accepted by so few. Desire for touch had since grown as affections were accepted and Nasir now reached for him as well.

Recalling those many weeks prior to meeting Nasir and how his grief had consumed all he was, Agron grew even more concerned. While grieving he had allowed anger to command him to point that he knew naught else. In a world now unfamiliar absent presence of Duro, anger had become the one thing he would recognize. He had not even made attempt to quell fury when it rose and would listen to Spartacus alone in regaining calm. It was only Nasir giving him new purpose that allowed him to cease being consumed by such flame and regain self.

He would not see his heart pursue emotions familiar to him in his loss. It was not only how such search would not allow the Syrian to find peace, but what was most familiar to him was likely to be Tiberius and the dismissal of emotions which had allowed the body slave to survive. All progress made by Nasir to reclaim life he should have led would be lost to what he had used as shield for so many years, a thing Agron would see never come to pass.

Reaching out once more, Agron grasped Nasir’s wrist to halt motion of removing bandage. He felt the Syrian’s body tense through touch but refused to allow that to dissuade him. “Allow my aid,” pleading request asked for much and Agron was certain Nasir would understand meaning. Nasir’s eyes rose again to meet Agron’s gaze, yet at last remained upon him. Conflict seemed to grip tightly and silence remained between them until Nasir at last nodded his acceptance. Agron’s body relaxed with his sigh of relief that he was finally accepted. He brought the smaller hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to Nasir’s soft skin. “Take seat and I will check wound.” He was careful in that his tone remained calm and did not contain any manner of giving order. He never wished for Nasir to hear any of his words as command.

Nasir responded with hesitation – the bedroll alone provided place of comfort to sit upon – yet he did take seat atop thick cloths, kneeling down before folding his legs beneath him to sit upon them.

Another position of a fucking slave…

Agron dismissed his desire to ask Nasir not to sit so for now and sat upon stone floor so he would be positioned lower – though height difference meant he was only slightly lower than Nasir – and reached for bandage to finish task of its removal. The last few layers bore stains of blood and Agron let out a curse at the knowledge that it had been his grasp that had caused Nasir pain. He looked up to realize that Nasir was watching him closely. “Nasir…” he began, the name breaking off upon his tongue.

“No apologies are needed,” Nasir interrupted. “I should not have struck Donar when he only held intention to lend aid.”

Agron paused in response briefly before pressing forward with words guided by humor. “He always voiced caution of how a wild dog would again bare teeth. I will be certain to put to question the pride he feels in being correct.” Nasir gave no response as Agron used the bloody cloth to remove all remaining flow – wound had already ceased bleeding – and he then grabbed clean length of cloth to cover wound once again. Nasir displayed no sign of discomfort as he completed treatment.

“We could not have known she would choose such action,” Agron stated as his hands finished task, then rested upon Nasir’s legs, needing to remain in contact with the Syrian. “Not even your talents tell you all.”

Agron was making assumption that Nasir was feeling guilt at not knowing of Chadara’s betrayal. He had placed blame for what had been done to his predecessor as body slave upon self – if Agron made correct assumption – and he had not been close to that man.

“There stands no reason for me to know her choice absent words.” Agron looked up to dark eyes, curious at Nasir’s certainty. “When I was purchased I refused to break words with any beyond what was necessary for completion of tasks. Chadara would not accept my silence and would seek me out to speak to me absent purpose. She was so giving in her words that I have never heard ones unspoken from her.”

“Then why would you feel need to take blame?”

Nasir’s eyes closed as he inhaled deeply to maintain control. Agron wished Nasir would not restrain his emotions so while alone with him. “Just before your return from Capua, Chadara and I broke harsh words.”

“What was said?” Agron pressed when it seemed as though Nasir would again remain silent.

“I have made attempt to convince her against need to use her body to gain protection among rebels. She made accusation of my actions toward you to hold such purpose.” The German’s temper rose at such thought: he feared Nasir holding belief that he pursued him out of lust. To have Chadara voice his fears in such manner brought them to surface. A huff of laughter absent humor distracted him from rising emotion. “My response was one of anger as well. Anger was already quick to rise with frustration of wound and concern of your safe return and her words pressed me beyond restraint.” Nasir gave pause once more and Agron lifted his right hand to Nasir’s cheek. “I did not anticipate opportunity to make apology for words would be forever lost.”

Unable to remain idle at the pain in Nasir’s voice, Agron closed distance between them and pressed his lips briefly before touching their foreheads together. He watched as moisture gathered in Nasir’s eyes and flowed down his cheeks, running over the skin of Agron’s hand as well.

“There is enough suffering to be had by loss alone. Do not search for more in placing blame. We have all made choices which bear shame. Hers brought death and words of truth none have considered to voice.” Agron was uncertain if Nasir was even listening to his words until the Syrian reached out and grasped his arm, fingers curling around his brand. His other hand curled behind Agron’s neck and held the gladiator to him.

Once again, the man fought his tears, yet was now taking comfort Agron willingly gave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So within this chapter is one of my favorite scenes to write and that was the last part following Chadara's death. In complete opposition of having to struggle at the end of last chapter, this one pretty much wrote itself and didn't change much between my hand-written rough draft and what you guys see here. There was a lot of inspiration from The Dead and the Dying where Nasir thought Agron was dead going into how he handled Chadara's death at this point in his character development and I really like how it turned out.  
> I have mentioned it here and there, but I am working on the sequel right now, but will give the revelation now that this will be a trilogy with the third story following War of the Damned. The second will take place between the seasons and I would love to hear what you guys have as far as ideas as to what might happen there or even suggestions of what to include. It really is the only one that I have a lot of freedom with this remaining canon compliant and I want to kinda take advantage of that.  
> Well, thank you for reading and hope to hear from you.  
> See you next time!


	7. Sacramentum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days pass and numbers swell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Chapter Word Count: 8,748 words  
> Beta: AkinaSky  
> A/N: Gratitude for every comment, kudo, subscription, bookmark, and silent reading of the story. Not really anything else to say so enjoy!

Agron lay upon his bedroll, thoughts plagued as they had been through entirety of night in manner which kept him from finding much sleep. It had been many months since sleep had been found with ease for the German and so did not stand as cause for his distress. If he were to be honest, he would have accepted graciously for his lack of rest to be brought on by common shade of his brother. If it had been so, he would not have need for concern over the one whose even breaths fell upon his shoulder and neck as he did.

This was not how he imagined sharing bed with Nasir for the first time.

Grief had quickly brought the yet healing body to exhaustion and Agron had moved the Syrian to lie down as he fell to slumber. He had considered leaving once Nasir was positioned – not wanting to press the Syrian beyond comfort – but grip upon the gladiator had not eased until Agron had settled onto the bedroll at his side. Nasir had stretched his body upon his right side along Agron as the gladiator relaxed on his back. After only brief moments of not moving for fear of rousing the Syrian, Agron had begun running his fingers through ebony hair as Nasir’s head rested on his chest just over his heart, as though taking comfort from the sound of proof of life in his companion.

The Syrian had not moved through entirety of night, his sleep deep in his recovery.

Agron had slept some, catching moments of relaxation when eyes could no longer remain open before awakening again at slightest shift from the smaller body pressed to him and would be kept awake by racing thoughts. He knew Nasir would heal from loss of Chadara, just as he now healed from grievous wound. Concern lay in if he would continue to grant trust to others. His belief that he had forced Chadara to her decision by not remaining familiar to her was strong the previous night. He had allowed himself to expose his true mind and heart to others and had grown beyond mere survival while she remained under shackle of slave mind. Would uncertainty force Nasir’s return to such mindset as well?

Enraged words to gladiators and likely bruise upon Donar’s face made such seem unlikely.

Such reaction had not been one of a slave.

Movement across area of his chambers caught his gaze as cloth was pushed aside and Spartacus entered slowly, taking in sight of Nasir sleeping soundly against Agron. He moved silently across the small room, apparently aware of ease in awakening a former body slave, until he stood at side of the bedroll. He took knee on floor beside Agron and paused as the Syrian sighed as he shifted position to face away from the body he rested against yet remained close to the warmth provided by the German’s large form.

“Chadara’s body has been cared for as promised. Mira and Donar have ensured that no harsh words be broken about her actions,” Spartacus whispered. Agron shifted position as well – having been unable to until now without disrupting the Syrian’s rest – moving up enough to rest his back upon the folded blankets used as pillows. He did not wish to disturb Nasir even now, yet he would be more upright in speaking with Spartacus. He held position of authority within rebellion after all and would display such.

“I will express gratitude to them as soon as opportunity is presented,” Agron responded, truly relieved to know those two had acted in such manner to support Chadara and Nasir.

“It has not been greatly needed though.” Agron looked to his brother in curiosity. Chadara’s actions could be seen as naught but betrayal and these people did not forgive such easily. Gladiators held on to such grudges with the greatest of tenacity. Spartacus continued at seeing the German’s disbelief. “Nasir spoke a deep truth last night.”

“One you have often told me,” Agron admitted with guilt at feeling the same toward most slaves as many of the gladiators.

“Yet when words are broken by former body slave who made attempt on my life, survived the mines and stab wound, and struck gladiator of such standing as Donar the thought of mere house slave being more than burden to those with sword seems of greater ease to believe.” Spartacus spoke in a blend of pride and humor and Agron found likeness of emotions rise in him when all that Nasir had accomplished since freed was placed in such straightforward manner. “Training has already begun in the courtyard and many of the brotherhood have lent aid where they before would not be bothered with such task.”

Agron’s pride swelled further at knowing the Syrian’s pain had somehow been of benefit to rebellion regardless of intent in speaking as he had while stricken with grief.

“Remain at his side today. Enough time remains until plans need be set toward Neapolis.” The Thracian stood and walked from the room. Agron looked over to Nasir and then turned his body to press against the Syrian’s back, answering urge to again have greatest amount of contact with his heart as able.

He did not expect the body within grasp to react, let alone tense in entirety as it did. He had been certain that Nasir had yet been asleep as he had not moved again and his breathing had remained the same. He readied himself to move away from Nasir’s body when the smaller man reacted to such slight motion by gripping cloth of the bedroll tightly in his hand, grip so tight his dark skin paled. His breathing – having been so even until now – labored briefly before evening again under obvious control.

Understanding brought Agron’s stomach to knots: Nasir was preparing to be taken.

“Nasir…” The Syrian gasped at the sound of Agron’s voice and some tension faded from his body, yet remained greatly defensive.

“Agron,” Nasir breathed, voice trembling with uncertainty. At hearing name called, the German pulled away enough so as to allow Nasir to roll to back and look up at him. “Apologies, I feared…”Agron reached out with his hand and cupped the Syrian’s cheek. Dark eyes lowered to where his arm touched skin of his chest and he reached up with own hand to lay touch upon brand revealing what had gained attention. While grip remained secure, tension left remainder of body. “I feared freedom to have been dream.”

“I would not have you again make apology for response beyond control. I should not have pressed to you so absent knowledge that it was me at your back.”

Dark eyes lifted once more and met his gaze, a familiar fire rising. “I will come to know your touch absent fail or doubt.” Such certainty so soon after fear left Agron in awe of what Nasir was now capable of and he could not keep from closing distance to press lips to the Syrian’s. The grip upon brand tightened as he pressed into Nasir, tongue brushing against soft lips in taste. Once such pleasure was known, Agron found his desire for more rise. However, he knew he could not press much further as he would move beyond Nasir’s already strained comfort. He maintained kiss for many moments longer as Nasir had not refused him. His tongue took in wondrous taste many more times in light brushes before at last pulling away. He was satisfied to see relaxed pleasure in Nasir’s expression, such sight further enflaming Agron’s desire for the exotic beauty at his side.

Desire faded though as Nasir seemed to awaken enough to recall reason as to how he came to lie with Agron and the death of his friend. Eyes darkened with sorrow and lowered so as not to gaze upon the German. He then moved to sit and slid with care to edge of bedroll, reaching out for the thin cloak he had removed the previous night.

“I should see medicus and ensure she yet believes I do not require her unending gaze.”

The Syrian was making retreat in uncertainty of grief as Agron held suspicion he would.

“I would desire your company once free from her claws,” Agron made offer and Nasir turned to him as he pulled cloak over his shoulders. “There stands much time before we move on Neapolis and Spartacus has released me from task for the day. I would spend such gifted freedom at your side.”

Nasir remained silent for a moment before giving response Agron had no expectation of seeing: a smile. It was slight and did not bear honest humor, yet it held great significance in that such expression was one of Nasir and not body slave. It conveyed how loss would not restrain Nasir, just as wound did not shackle him in activity as it would for many others. He would grow from this pain and become stronger for such endurance.

He held such greater amount of strength than Agron, who had allowed a single death to consume him.

“You may stand absent responsibility yet I have tasks awaiting my attention,” Nasir responded, his voice displaying the same combination of emotion as his expression had. Yet his words were not denial of Agron’s offer: it was a challenge. He would not bend to Agron’s desires because they now stood as companions, but would see same effort expended from the German as he had when first seeking his company those many weeks ago.

“Then I will join you and lend aid.”

Now Nasir breathed out a laugh, bringing Agron further surprise. It was not the light sound it normally sounded as yet it was more than Agron expected so soon after loss.

His shock was replaced by frustration though as he realized truth of Nasir’s words and expressions for the deception they were.

Fuck the gods, the Syrian was skilled at suppressing and concealing his emotions, even to the gladiator he held affection for.

“You may join, but I will not double work before me by allowing your aid. I hold no desire to mend damage inflicted upon tasks set before me by your inexperienced hands.”

Agron sat up at Nasir’s words, unable to discern if his heart was giving insult or jest. “I can count as well as any other among us.”

Nasir turned away as he stood and stretched his body out, his limbs moving with a grace Agron was incapable of displaying or ignoring as his eyes fixed upon curve of Nasir’s back and hips as such skin was revealed to sight around worn material of the cloak. “So can Spartacus, yet I would not trust the man to decide on food and water rations for coming weeks. And I would not have rebellion fall to lack of supplies if I can make difference.”

“Do you truly hold belief that those of the ludus hold no skill beyond the swinging of sword?”

Nasir reached for the hanging cloth providing privacy as he replied, “Of course that is not my belief.” He turned back to Agron as he gave pause, then a dark eyebrow lifted in sly manner Agron had never before seen upon the Syrian and he was brought greater distraction as desire for this dynamic man rose once more. “Mira holds great talent in inventory of supplies.” He walked away then and the cloth settled into place before Agron realized he had been teased and manipulated expertly by the man he held to heart. Even expression had been purposeful in bringing the German to distraction.

“Fucking Syrian!” he yelled after the man and sighed as he laid back heavily upon his bedroll, much more at ease in how Nasir would accept loss of friend.

He thought over exchange of words and expressions upon Nasir’s face since awakening. Neither were reliable method of determining Nasir’s true emotions, yet his relaxed posture communicated more of his mind to Agron than any words. His jests did not contain normal humor as the two men often exchanged, yet was not forced either. He had simply clung to a thing familiar, as Agron thought he might, yet he had chosen familiarity in relationship with Agron. Pain of loss of friend and fear upon awakening to body pressed against him was dismissed as necessary to begin next day.

Agron realized through his thought’s progress that Nasir obviously felt emotions with great depth – not a thing completely unknown to him by now – yet held great skill in releasing such emotions so as to not be hindered. He did not forget what he experienced, but instead allowed such to become part of him with greater haste than most Agron held acquaintance of. Such command allowed the Syrian to maintain closely guarded control with greater efficiency at all times as he desired.

As thoughts drifted so, Agron wondered if he now stood alone in understanding the depth of Nasir with the passing of Chadara.

Thought was quickly followed by memory of discussion held with the woman in Vesuvius’ shadow many nights past and he then wondered if he in truth stood the only one to understand Nasir while Chadara alone held understanding of Tiberius.

* * *

Life as freed man appeared to be one of ever changing days to Nasir’s eyes.

While under body slave’s collar, days had remained greatly the same. Awaken with rising of sun, serve master’s needs, tend to those within the villa, tend to the villa, see to needs of other house slaves with discretion, serve guests of the master, take rest when need for service passed, and then spend the next day in same manner. Variety simply did not exist to a slave, especially one who served man of standing as Nasir had. That man had not been fond of new experiences as many other Romans seemed in need of pursuing had only aided in each day passing in similar manner as the previous one. He had position and finances to manage and cared not for recreation absent profit – the reason he had never made the short journey to Capua to attend gladiators’ games – so Nasir had been allowed life of routine.

Over a month had passed since Spartacus had torn collar from neck and no single day had passed in reflection of the one before it. Even training with weapons – which he had taken up once again mere days following Chadara’s death with great caution – appeared to forever be in fluctuation. Spartacus remained closely involved with his development and appeared to be searching for something in manner of his training though Nasir could not know what it was. He yet developed skill with gladius, recalling technique of strikes with ease even after so long absent practice – his memory never failed him – and now worked strikes with knife, fist, and foot. He was certain if more weapons had been available to rebellion, he would see yet more variety.

It also appeared as though Spartacus’ claim in woods before flesh was burned of him now holding place among brotherhood had held meaning, though he held wonder if it was healing wound or night of Chadara’s death which held more responsibility for change in how he was approached by others of the ludus. Many who previously remained indifferent to his taking up weapon treated him with more care now and he began training with many others by offer of their aid in his progress.

The name Peitros had whispered through minds of many gladiators who had been in the ludus for many years though Nasir found no cause for comparison and Agron did not know the man in question.

Bonds of friendship – some of great strength and others of cooperative depth – had also continued to form between Nasir and others within temple. Spartacus and Mira often shared his company and conversation even beyond training and ensuring completion of tasks within camp. He had also formed deep friendship with Naevia, her close watch over him while healing giving opportunity for them to bond over shared experience of bearing position of body slave. Even Crixus had managed to accept his company rather than tolerate it for friendship with Naevia placed him in the Gaul’s company often as well beyond training. Lucius was also favored company, as the man was a pleasure to converse with. He also appeared to hold a fondness for Nasir which the Syrian attributed to his young age and a possible urge of the Roman to guide him to success as he held imagining a father would. Similar affections were given by Oenomaus, for Nasir had ample opportunity to offer the man company as healing progressed within them both. Beyond healing of his own wound, Nasir had begun learning from the medicus her craft so as to offer relief of her standing as the only one in a camp of warriors trained in healing remedies. This allotted him opportunity to break words with Oenomaus often for sake of passing long days of remaining idle for the Numidian. Time spent with the former Doctore, one held in such respect by those who led them, was a thing of great value which allowed the Syrian opportunity to learn of a man nearly as reticent as he. The Numidian appeared to find affection for him when Nasir’s former position and actions since joining rebellion were given voice.

There was also his pairing with Agron…

The night of Chadara’s death was the first he had spent at Agron’s side, even in the weeks before affections were shared as Nasir had always sought solitude to take sleep while others gathered together. He had fallen to slumber that night in comfort of knowledge that the German would never allow harm to come to him. Such feeling had allowed Nasir to see beyond morning’s fear of awakening to a man at his back and he had moved his own bedroll into Agron’s room the following night.

In truth, cause for such action had been Agron’s constant awareness and seeming ease in understanding of Nasir. The German had noticed the Syrian’s delay in parting with him at end of day and had asked if he wished to remain. They had slept on separate bedrolls for many nights as Nasir had difficulty not recalling years of his body being used for pleasure while unable to see Agron was his companion in moments of awakening. It was only one night while Agron was kissing all sense from mind that Nasir realized he was grasping brand upon gladiator’s arm. That mark – as well as scar upon chest at Agron’s heart – served purpose of reminding him that it was not Roman hands and lips upon him but that of a man whose affection was welcomed if not desired. These were touches of one who cared for him and would forever heed Nasir’s wishes. These hands and lips would leave him if asked to cease absent pause or frustration of not finding satisfaction.

He revealed such discovery to Agron, who smiled in his usual wide manner and from that moment forward ensured that Nasir’s skin was never far from either mark.

The night before Agron parted for Neapolis, they shared a bedroll and Nasir had awoken knowing absent hesitation that it was Agron sleeping with him. There had been no fear of being forced to submit to desires of another for his head rested upon Agron’s branded arm with raised skin pressed into the Syrian’s sensitive neck.

Yet Nasir would rather not require even that much to know with certainty that Agron was at his side. He would see it so one day soon.

The night of mission in Neapolis provided little rest for the Syrian though as he was consumed with concern over safety of all who had gone to liberate slaver ship. Nasir had even held quarrel with Spartacus about the man’s decision to have the Syrian remain behind. Argument had been given that just as he had laid eyes upon the mines – though it had only been single occasion – he had often been to Neapolis with his Roman master through his years of service and would know as much as Lucius about the town. Spartacus had at first made point that such put risk of recognition upon Nasir, only to be rebuked that none of note would recognize a slave. He held ability to offer warning where none other among them could, just as he had done while fleeing from mines. Spartacus appeared to be about to accept him joining when Agron gave reason Nasir could not argue through training in manner that pressed his endurance of wound not yet fully healed and gave proof that battle in earnest could not yet be tolerated. Spartacus would not allow one unable to fight to take part in mission of such importance and great possibility of needing such ability.

Nasir’s concern had been unnecessary though, as all departed had returned with large group of boisterous Germans following. Nasir had greeted them all politely, keeping to Agron’s side where the man had placed himself as soon as they had returned. These people welcomed him and gave introductions – Nasir often needing Agron to give aid in understanding words broken.

Their minds were as unrestrained as their voices and unspoken words appeared unending to Nasir.

His mind was flooded with the language of Germania.

It was fucking exhausting.

He had only just managed to hear thoughts absent pain most of the time. Spartacus and Crixus – as they remained the only ones alongside Agron in knowing of his gift – had begun aiding him many days ago in learning ways in which to use skill in battle. If so desired, he could keep all but the strongest thoughts from breaching mind though it took great concentration to maintain. He was also learning how to search minds of others – though mind of target needed to remain unaware and unguarded to such scrutiny – for weaker or concealed thoughts.

He would not fail as he had with Chadara.

He had also made attempt to repeat skill which had caused scar upon face, yet had seen no success. He quickly accepted that it had been a thing incapable absent such dire circumstances. Such was accepted with ease as Nasir considered that his skin had parted as if cut with blade from strain of vision. He did not wish to pursue gift that he did not know with certainty he would grow accustomed to as he did with hearing unspoken words.

Nasir walked into deep shadows within the temple, leaving behind laughter and shouting of Germans yet celebrating their newly regained freedom. He took a deep breath and looked about to see if there were any to share quiet company with. He quickly noticed Spartacus, Mira, Oenomaus, Crixus, and Naevia gathered in a corner about a fire in light conversation. He gave hesitation in approaching, uncertain if his added company would be welcome among those who had known each other long before meeting him. He became quickly convinced it would be an intrusion to join and he moved to turn away when Mira called to him with gesture indicating for him to approach. He hesitated yet another moment until he saw within expression of others in circle that his company was accepted.

He walked to them and sat at Mira’s side as Spartacus sat near her on her other side. Oenomaus was beside Spartacus and Crixus sat with back leaning against stone wall with Naevia leaning her body against his in relaxation. Nasir took position so as to put his back to activity of the Germans in attempt to further disconnect from their words. He could ignore them with greater ease when he did not feel urge to match words to whom they had originated from.

“I did not expect to see you parted from Agron’s side,” Mira commented. It was not a jest, for the two spent all moments free of obligation with one another. With both men holding much responsibility within rebellion, such moments were of some difficulty to find in abundance.

“I hold no favor for not knowing words of those around me,” he replied evenly, honest yet not telling of all. The expressions of Mira and Naevia told him they knew he was not revealing all to them in his response.

Oenomaus did not allow him to remain unopposed – revealing how he had noticed the Syrian’s restraint with as much ease as the two women – and questioned further. “You have told me how you were yet a child when taken from your land. Did you speak the common tongue?”

“No, I spoke only Aramaic. I learned much of Rome’s language from slaver responsible for my sale.”

Spartacus appeared to consider this with care. “Do you yet recall words of your language?”

“I do, yet opportunity to speak so is absent among those of the rebellion.”

“There stands no loss, for it is one of those absent honor and I hold no favor for it,” Crixus spoke harshly and Nasir held no need to hear echo of Ashur’s name to know he stood as cause for the Gaul’s displeasure. He did feel some irritation though at the language of his home being insulted so. He would speak freely in his tongue if it would be understood rather than speaking in manner forced upon him by Rome. However he allowed his ire to pass absent breaking words of opposition toward the Gaul as nothing would be gained from voicing such against dark emotions Nasir did not blame Crixus for bearing. “That of these people holds little improvement.”

So Crixus did not approve of those joining cause to be of Agron’s land. It was not a thing unexpected with animosity remaining between the two gladiators.

“While it is difficult to be among people of such nature, I am surprised at Agron,” Nasir admitted. “He is not acting as he normally would.”

Reaction of the three gladiators gave Nasir concern, for they appeared to take more than conversational interest in his opinion, though Spartacus and Crixus gave him aid too often with unspoken words to reveal anything to his curiosity. It was Spartacus who asked him, “What meaning do your words hold?”

“He has broken words with any of the brotherhood less as day has progressed, committing company to kin of land. Even Donar has been dismissed many times despite also standing as one East of the Rhine. I fear I would be dismissed as well had he not made clear I was his companion. Common tongue has been heard less as day passes and he will only reveal meaning when asked for such.” Reminder of why he had parted company brought recollection of throbbing head to focus and he brought hands to temples to attempt at alleviation of tension. “They are a loud people,” he finished with heavy sigh. Those familiar with his talent would understand his meaning, especially when coupled with the gesture of seeking relief for they had witnessed painful effects of unspoken words upon the Syrian.

“Does Agron intend secrecy between kin and others about them?” Crixus questioned, his tone unexpectedly forceful. Nasir looked to him in observation and realized the accusation within words, bringing rise to the Syrian’s temper he would not dismiss so readily.

“Gauls are committed to your lead, yet they are not put to question,” he responded. Naevia lowered her head to conceal her smile at Nasir’s words. The two men exchanged words often within time Nasir spent with Naevia and an exchange of this manner was common: Crixus quick to speak harsh words and Nasir returning clever words of a similar harsh nature absent fear of enraging the Undefeated Gaul. It was a strange friendship that had formed between them, yet it was genuine in the mutual respect held for one another at core. “Would you not do the same if suddenly among kin after many months absent their company?”

Spartacus appeared to accept such reasoning. “Donar has been absent Germania for many years while these men and women may bear news of Agron’s home. Time should be allowed for him to enjoy bond lost since Duro’s death.”

Explanation appeared to be accepted by Crixus as the man relaxed in slight measure. “Once joy over reunion has faded he will return to form at your side Spartacus, and these people appear willing to follow such lead.” Nasir made attempt at reassurance yet was not of complete certainty in his claim. That held no matter to him though as he would come to Agron’s defense absent hesitation.

Spartacus’ eyes passed between others now observing conversation carefully before the man stood and beckoned for Crixus and Nasir to follow him further into the temple. Oenomaus appeared curious at such sudden separation while Mira and Naevia were more accustomed to see either man speak privately with the Syrian and resumed conversing easily as the three men walked away. That Spartacus called for such separation told the Syrian that he was to be questioned further toward answers he alone could give.

Once they were of accepted solitude, Spartacus spoke, “What is your impression of these people, Nasir? Ignore their meaning to Agron and tell me observations of one accustomed to understanding others.”

Nasir looked in direction of temple courtyard where echoes of celebration found origin. “What answer do you seek?” he asked in attempt to evoke unspoken words to aid in guiding response for Spartacus had never asked him such question and habits not yet discarded urged him not to fail in task given. However Spartacus was too accustomed in breaking words with him and his mind remained silent, though Nasir realized with haste that such was not needed as the man would be honest with him in giving answer.

“I seek answer of greatest accuracy,” answer was given with a smirk, revealing to Nasir that Spartacus had known of his intent in asking such clarity. While not necessarily deceptive, it was more a tactic of a body slave rather than honest warrior.

“I believe they will aid our cause, yet it will not be for the same reasons as I. Even absent questioning them of such, it stands obvious they have never stood as slaves as all others among us. This may offer difficulty in their acceptance of your leadership.”

Crixus responded to this observation, his voice again somewhat aggressive, “So you hold belief they will betray us?”

Sighing in frustration at the Gaul for the man usually did not misunderstand him with such regularity even when he spoke with intent to misguide Crixus for sake of humor. “Betrayal is not what I would hold concern for, but the need for a show of strength. You both stood as warriors prior to slavery. I should have no need to explain how others of your likeness think.”

Spartacus and Crixus looked to one another at Nasir’s frustrated words before the Thracian gave the Syrian a fond smile.

_The Syrian bites once more…_

Before response could form, a thick arm wrapped tightly about Nasir’s waist just below his bandage and lifted him with great ease from the ground. Having not expected such touch and action, the former body slave could not keep the tension from spreading through his body. The only reason he did not strike out was his arms were pinned to his sides under gripping arms and to break such hold would risk pressing into his wound in manner that would tear it open anew.

Deep voice of the German Lugo spoke into his ear with loud abandon and Nasir flinched as he was given reminder of reason he had sought quiet company. He made attempt to focus on the man’s words and thoughts to glean meaning, yet failed at understanding as he had throughout day. He was about to give command to be released when Agron’s voice – a sound always recognized by Nasir even while speaking another language – called out to Lugo and the smaller man was dropped from grasp. The Syrian stumbled at being released so and Spartacus reached out to grasp his arm to aid Nasir in recovering balance. Nasir nodded gratitude toward the Thracian before his attention returned to the Germans.

Agron approached – his smile fading briefly at realizing who Nasir was holding company with – and reached out to brush his fingers into Nasir’s hair once within distance to do so as Lugo backed away a few steps. “You left absent words.”

“I did not wish to cause interruption of reunion with kin,” Nasir explained, allowing gentle touch to soothe throbbing in his head as it usually did for relaxation he found in such contact from the one he held deep care for. “I am for rest and welcome your company when you are ready to part theirs for the night.” He held no doubt Agron would understand cause for his departure as he was more aware of how great pain could become when caused by unspoken words than any other source. Such understanding would not allow insult to be had and Agron did not disappoint as he stepped closer to press lips to Nasir’s temple.

“I will join you soon then.” Nodding acceptance to Agron, then bidding Spartacus and Crixus a good night – holding hope that he had answered the Thracian’s curiosity to satisfaction since he had revealed all he believed of necessity – Nasir moved away through the halls of the temple to the pallet he shared with Agron. The German did not join him before he fell to slumber.

* * *

“Do you put me to fucking question as well?” Agron threw aside curtain to their small quarters as his words broke at volume great enough to echo through entire temple.

Nasir was seated upon their pallet working with cloth taken from villas to make them better suit needs of rebellion, to be used for practicality over appearance. So focused upon task, the Syrian startled – a thing difficult to bring forth in the former body slave as he was usually of great awareness of his surrounds – and his hand reached for knife he kept at his hip at all times.

Had Agron not been so taken with anger, he would have felt pride at reaction of a warrior.

Breathing deeply to regain calm, Nasir responded with his ever even voice, “I do not question you and would know who does.”

At most times, such dulcet voice would be enough to bring control over temper to Agron, yet he was too far enraged for such to be found at this time. Touching Nasir would calm him as well, but he would not risk doing so now when he stood uncertain that he would not cause harm to his heart. Instead he maintained distance and pressed his back to the cool wall across the small space from the Syrian.

“Spartacus doubts my loyalty over that of the fucking Gaul. I was first to stand at his side when he made plans against Batiatus and he now believes me unworthy of trust!”

“He does not act absent cause, Agron,” Nasir returned attention to the cloth within grasp. Even taken with rage as he was, Agron understood that such act was not one of dismissal but an acceptance of his choice not to approach now. He understood how the Syrian was a young man who thrived while in motion and whose mind worked at greatest haste while hands were busy. Such was a marvel to the German. “What has happened to place such thoughts within mind?”

“Crixus whispers…” Dark eyes looked up to him and Agron paused in response against the Gaul at such piercing gaze.

“Words from Crixus are not reason and I have heard words he breaks in regard to you. They are not enough.”

“Fucking Syrian,” Agron muttered his familiar jest to his heart as he realized Nasir would not accept a response absent thought. He relaxed – as he always did – upon seeing Nasir’s lips lift slightly into a smile. The man was of such beauty when he showed happiness in any measure. “I told Spartacus of other ships docking we could have freed. He was displeased I did not tell him of those as well.”

Nasir appeared thoughtful at revelation. “Why did you not tell him of the other ships? Was there greater risk in their liberation?”

“Not for ones as skilled in battle as us, yet they were of risk to rebellion. One hailed from Damascus, a people with no sense of loyalty by their own claim and the other was filled with more Gauls.” Nasir’s eyebrow lifted at the information given, an expression familiar to Agron to hold meaning of the Syrian finding understanding.

Nasir’s gaze returned to occupation of his hands. “I know people of your home bear deep dislike of those of Gallia, yet should such opinion be held when Crixus has proven to be a man of great honor?”

“It is not Crixus who puts the Gauls to question. It was his actions, regardless of intent focused upon Naevia, which saw you from the mines and returned to my arms.”

Agron only recognized the flush of dark skin as the show of one shy in receiving affection as Nasir was because he was of habit in searching out the Syrian’s emotions.

“Just as your actions saw him from arena and returned to Naevia. He will see sense and offer forgiveness when he stands prepared.”

It was true testament of how deeply Nasir knew Agron’s mind to speak so, for his words removed rise of anger that would have taken hold at reminder of his current standing with Crixus. How had he come to be so fucking blessed in the one who held his heart?

“Yet his kin were willing to leave you to Roman shits once you bore wound.” Nasir’s eyes lifted again from task and fixed the German with expression of curiosity, informing Agron of how such fact had not been known to the Syrian. This was not unexpected for much of the time having passed while he suffered wound had been lost from memory. Agron had only learned of it from breaking words with Mira while the woman was particularly enraged at the losses they had experienced within days following Chadara’s death.

Agron moved across the distance between them and lowered his body to kneel upon the bedroll before Nasir and reached out to touch his hand to bandage covering nearly healed wound as his forehead also connected with the Syrian’s. In such position he could not only feel gentle breaths upon his face, but could also follow motion beneath his hand. There was no greater balm to fear of losing this man than feeling such proof that he yet lived. “Mira told me that choice to burn you was in response to Gauls making argument to leave you to your death.”

Nasir placed cloth within his hands aside and brought his hands to rest upon both sides of Agron’s face. He pressed forward enough to touch his lips to Agron’s in soothing kiss. The contact was kept for but a moment as Nasir would want Agron’s displeasure settled before allowing any measure of intimacy between them.

“You cannot lay blame upon the Gauls for such thoughts when I would have asked the same of Spartacus had I been able. You should give gratitude to words broken that led to Naevia’s suggestion of burning wound, for I would not have survived otherwise.”

Agron’s response was one he had attempted to avoid while so near his heart: one born of anger. He pulled his face from Nasir’s hands yet pushed forward with his body to press Nasir’s back to the bedroll with the German’s larger body supported above him. Nasir allowed such force though Agron saw fire of retaliation pass through dark eyes. Such expression told him that had it been any but the German, injury would have been inflicted for treating Nasir as though he held no choice.

Anger at Nasir’s words, however, had not passed and so proper response to such progress within his heart could not be experienced. “They command your sacrifice and you give them fucking gratitude?”

Nasir’s even gaze did not falter in facing Agron’s anger. It never did. “Emotion is wasted on those already for the afterlife.” Memory stirred at such words to a night of rain and blood not so long past. The Syrian again spoke of how such emotions toward those no longer living to be of waste.

Agron released a heavy sigh as he pulled his body away from Nasir to sit at edge of pallet as he felt his anger fade further. While he had not truly desired to keep hold of anger toward Spartacus, it was strike to pride to know how great of ease it was for Nasir to calm him so.

Nasir sighed as well – though his breath conveyed loss of patience – and lifted his body enough to rest weight upon elbows. “I would see your anger put to rest so we may hold conversation worthy of men.” No other but his heart could break such words to Agron and not be struck. “You made choice that held effect upon all within temple. I do not claim they will not be of great value to cause, yet there were others that may have provided the same. Spartacus may be uncertain for you have never before concealed your actions so. Confidence will be restored so long as you remind him that you earned his faith and place at his side.”

Agron sighed again at ease in which the Syrian found words. “You make task appear of greatest ease.”

“Made so once pride is discarded and you recall this is your friend and brother as well as your leader. Your thoughts are of value to him and single poor action will not change that.”

Agron turned back toward Nasir, moving to once again hold his body over the smaller body. Nasir relaxed his body back against the thick cloth beneath him, accepting the German’s position. Agron brought up his arms to rest upon either side of Nasir head and lowered down to his elbows, placing him close enough for their bodies to make contact while keeping his weight from pressing into the man. He would not risk bringing pain to his heart. As he leaned in to press his lips against Nasir’s, one hand buried in long hair and he used pressure he knew Nasir to enjoy to further relax the man. He quickly deepened the kiss and pressed his tongue beyond soft lips into Nasir’s willing mouth.

He felt Nasir move and one hand rested upon skin of his hip while the other came to brush over his chest, fingers touching raised skin of his scar. It was strange how a thing that had nearly claimed his life brought his heart such comfort yet it was beginning to hold same effect over him as it meant Nasir was overcoming his own pain. The hand moved up his chest to run along his neck and into the hair at the back of his head to encourage Agron to remain in place.

Moments later Agron pulled away to take in a few deep breaths and was about to taste those lips again when Nasir’s hand in his hair gripped to keep him from doing so. Nasir did not possess strength to move Agron in any manner, yet the gladiator had become so attuned to manner of Nasir’s touch that any motion that gave indication for him to cease was as powerful as strongest blow. He looked down to the Syrian in concern of what had brought cause for him to keep Agron from continuing and realized Nasir’s eyes were looking beyond the German. Recognizing meaning quickly, Agron again straightened his posture just as Sedullus’ loud voice called to him in language of his people. He called back response before the large man could invade upon their privacy. The other man accepted response and walked away absent more words.

“What did he say?” Nasir asked as he moved to sit up as well.

“Do you not hold understanding?” Agron asked, though he was uncertain as to why he held such strong conviction that Nasir would not require meaning of words to be explained. Perhaps it was the man’s observant nature and quick mind that had brought forth such belief.

Nasir’s dark eyes cut through him as though blade to convey how foolish such question was.

Agron was always grateful for how open and honest Nasir was with him, yet when such expressions were cast upon him he realized desire that there stood others who would receive such looks. He knew none would cast teasing words toward him if they knew what it felt like to feel as though fucking imbecile with simple gaze.

“How am I to know meaning of a language I have not heard prior to yesterday? The only way I could understand so would be to hear common tongue through your unspoken words.” Nasir’s words reminded Agron of a very important fact: Nasir had never heard Agron’s thoughts. The German had made attempt to aid in training as Spartacus and Crixus had for the Syrian to gain greater command over gifts when Nasir had revealed – in manner that held possibility of only just realizing truth himself – that Agron’s unspoken words never reached out to him. The Syrian gave many ideas as to why that may be, but Agron truly held no care for reason. He found delight in that their close bond was one of true equality, one of deep understanding built from time spent learning of each other and not what one was privy to from any gifts beyond explanation.

“What did Sedullus say?” Nasir reminded Agron of his question.

“He asked if we were to join celebration of successful hunt. I told him we would join if we so desired.” He knew Nasir would hear his meaning: Agron’s place was at Nasir’s side and he would remain with the Syrian if he did not wish to be among crowd again. He had left the previous night after all.

Nasir smiled as he leaned over to kiss the corner of Agron’s mouth as he moved past him in standing. “I would test quality of wine seized. Perhaps it will diminish volume of your people.”

Agron laughed as he also stood. “Does any man grow silent while under command of drink?” He reached out to lay his arm about Nasir’s shoulders as they moved together to leave the small room. “At least my kin will not lay assault upon your ears with songs of their cock.” Nasir’s response was a laugh, a melodious sound Agron wished to hear on greater occasion.

“You truly claim your people do not have songs of the like?”

“I make no such claim. Yet you do not speak the tongue to know when they do so.”

Nasir turned his smile upon Agron. “Unless Donar has seen fit to form bond through instruction in words of gladiator’s song.”

“I pray he holds greater sense.”

Celebration echoed through the temple walls. While those of Germania remained close to each other they were making attempt to include other gladiators and freed men in their joy. Lugo was at front of such attempts, even drawing Oenomaus into the drunken man’s singing. Sedullus was challenging any who would accept in brawls, his challenge to Agron being the only thing that night to draw the gladiator from Nasir’s side. When he returned from such match – suffering defeat for the man stood a fucking giant even to Agron – Nasir was yet laughing at his acceptance of such futile opposition.

Concern over Spartacus had fallen from thoughts and even frustration toward Crixus faded. So when Agron laid eyes upon Sedullus assaulting Naevia, the gladiator reacted in defense of the woman he now counted as friend. He was well aware of his skill in battle and knew he could not defeat Sedullus absent sword, though knowledge of his failure did not keep him from action.

He had never been so relieved to have Crixus join a fight, though relief was only momentary as it appeared to indicate a break of peace between the Germans and gladiators and the square erupted in fighting.

Agron’s focus remained upon Sedullus as he certainly provided greatest threat, especially when he overpowered Crixus, then Agron again as well. When the man drew Agron’s discarded sword and raised it to strike his own kin from this life, the gladiator believed death to be certain when Spartacus interrupted to save him.

Had Agron truly questioned Spartacus as his friend? Guilt rose in Agron at how he had treated his brother and leader.

Spartacus had been right to question his actions. It had not been his intention to act against the Thracian, yet he had indeed chosen actions he knew his leader would have wished choice in. Choice may have been made to free the Germans, but he had been robbed of opportunity to make such decision for self. Choice should never have been removed so.

Agron would follow Spartacus and made announcement with conviction once question was put forth. Lugo followed his lead first, then all his kin were displaying respect for Spartacus and committed to cause.

It was only many moments after fight when crowd calmed and Lugo and Nemetes moved to discard Sedullus’ body that Agron turned to find Nasir. The Syrian had moved into the temple just before fighting had begun and Agron’s focus had been too taken with his opponent to ensure Nasir remained absent. His desire went unanswered as he saw Nasir only a short distance away at side of Oenomaus. The former Doctore was already speaking with the Syrian as the smaller man wrapped the red cloth around his wrist as the material must have been pulled from its place.

Oenomaus looked up to Agron as he approached and nodded to him in greeting. Nasir looked over his shoulder as he was facing away and had noticed the motion of the elder man. Glance was brief though as he saw that it was his companion who now made approach and returned attention to task. Once within distance to touch, Agron pressed his hand to dark hair and used grip to turn the Syrian toward him. Blood running from nose caught Agron’s concern immediately and he felt a rush of anger toward any man who would dare draw his heart’s blood.

Realizing Agron’s rising ire, Nasir sighed with poorly concealed amusement. “A minor irritation at best, Agron. I have already returned injury.”

“The boy fought well for his lack of experience and size,” Oenomaus gave compliment. Agron did not put words to question for he knew the former Doctore did not give compliment absent truth. The man also held fondness for Nasir and worked with him as often as Agron, Spartacus, and Crixus and so would be less inclined to speak falsity for sake of comfort.

Nasir did not respond but used the cloth of his cloak to remove the blood from his face before turning attention to Agron. “Are you injured? Sedullus inflicted many strikes upon you.”

Agron grinned in response. “The Gaul’s strikes hit with greater strength.” It was not the truth and Nasir was certain to be aware of such pride-driven response and apparently ignored it. Reaching up with hands to run over Agron’s face and through his hair to feel out swelling from punches and where solid ground made impact with back of skull.

Once satisfied in his curiosity and concern, Nasir brushed his fingers soothingly through Agron’s hair. “You know not the meaning of restraint do you?”

“Sedullus set eyes upon Naevia and would not accept her refusal.” Nasir’s expression became one of concern at revelation. “I pulled him from her before damage could be inflicted. She is safe with Crixus. He deserved the death he was given and I regret only bringing him among our people.”

“We all have kin we are ashamed to claim as such.”

Oenomaus and Agron exchanged expressions of understanding: Ashur was a curse upon Nasir even absent meeting and the smaller man having proven himself to be of honor.

“We will greet tomorrow as new start with these people trusted among us,” Oenomaus spoke in confidence to break darkened mood. “Let us embrace each other as brothers and face the Romans as such.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much of what I base for the filler aspect of this story is subtle or quick exchanges between characters in the show. A big part of that is trying to figure out Nasir's friendships in these early days of the rebellion. So I use things like him and Oenomaus grasping arms and Oenomaus' expression when he looked at Nasir at the beginning of this episode or in Balance where Lucius winked at Nasir after picking on Agron. All those small details take root in my brain and grow into pieces of the story we didn't get to see.  
> And now brief moment of celebration: I got accepted as a volunteer for Spartacon in Maryland in August and have a high probability of meeting some of my favorite people from the show: Manu, Ellen, Barry, Viva, Cynthia, and DAN!!!! Not all guests are worked out yet and I'm really hoping for Pana to be able to make the trip. I am soooooooo excited!  
> Okay, got that out of my system and now back to work.  
> Gratitude for reading and I hope to hear from you.  
> Kira Dattei


	8. Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steps are taken for more than sake of rebellion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Chapter Words Count: 12,745 words  
> Beta: Akinasky  
> A/N: Thank you all for your patience, but I am still here and still working on getting this all posted. I feel sorry for my beta reader for having to go through this monster of a chapter, which is the longest I have ever written and now here it is for your enjoyment.  
> Gratitude for all the comments, kudos, and silent enjoyment of this story and enjoy!

** Chapter 8: Balance **

 

Nasir approached Agron as Spartacus moved from sight within temple with Roman woman stumbling behind, reaching out once near enough to grasp branded arm to gain attention absent concern of startling the gladiator into attack. Agron’s green eyes turned to him before returning toward the temple halls. “Who is the woman?” he questioned in a whisper, sound nearly lost in commotion yet to fade through courtyard.

“She stands as wife to the fucking Legatus who seeks our death,” Agron’s response was filled with anger though not any greater than any occasion he spoke of Romans so Nasir was not concerned.

“Why would Gannicus bring her here?” Nasir considered voicing question of why the man had returned at all, but Agron did not stand as one who would bring curiosity satisfaction. Even looking upon the former Champion of Capua from a distance told Nasir interest of cause was not embraced by the Celt, as it had been when he departed temple on night of Chadara’s death.

Agron turned to him again though his gaze held confusion. “I thought you were aware of how Glaber condemned Spartacus and his wife to slavery.” Of course Nasir held knowledge of path of vengeance Spartacus walked upon and what events had led him to such choices. This was not, however, reason for Gannicus’ actions.

“I am aware of such, yet that does not give cause for Gannicus to take the man’s wife.”

Agron’s eyes remained upon him, his gaze communicating that he did not understand why Nasir felt need to question so.

It would not stand as first time actions of those from the ludus caused confusion in Nasir for the Syrian’s mind did not work in same manner as those of the sands. It was not even fading slave habits, but instead Nasir’s nature which was much more relaxed than that of the gladiators. He did not cling to past wrongs against him for none gained from such hatred.

Agron appeared to recall such and he lifted his hand to brush hair that had come loose from plait in Nasir’s motions of training back from his cheek. Hand then rested upon Nasir’s cheek in familiar contact as Agron’s green eyes softened in affection. “Not all can find balance absent action as you stand capable of. We will soon know of Spartacus’ intentions. Return to task for now.”

Nasir nodded and accepted the brief kiss Agron leaned forward to place upon his lips. They did not often display such affection while in view of many others for Nasir held no preference of making display of his deep emotions and Agron was forever aware and adaptive to the Syrian’s comfort.

It was such gentle treatment that Nasir felt both appreciation and frustration. He knew there were yet moments when touched by Agron that he only recalled hands of Romans yet it was Agron’s care at such times which granted him greatest aid in overcoming dark memories. He was also quickly embracing the strength of a warrior, bringing his fierce independence to the surface with greater ease which allowed him to dismiss slave’s mind and thoughts.

Naevia had once told him of how she enjoyed observing him, for there was no predicting how he would respond to any words broken with him in jest. He was as likely to rebuke with humor as he was to take up challenge voiced against him. When he chose opposition, there were few occasions of him knowing loss against any other, for his tongue was as sharp as the blade he wielded with growing familiarity.

The Syrian was discovering with all those who held acquaintance with him that while he was of a gentler nature than many of the gladiators, he would fight for what he held belief in and would not retreat from opposition presented.

However it was also this emerging nature which brought him frustration, for he now held realization that he possessed physical desire as he never had before in his life. He desired Agron and he knew the man felt desire for him as well, yet naught more than light caress had been exchanged between them.

Nasir’s patience was swiftly approaching peak in emotions he was unfamiliar with and he would soon need to speak with Agron upon the subject.

For now, though, he returned to training. This day he was sparring freely with one of the lesser gladiators, a man of Hispania by name of Lydon. In actuality, he trained often with the man, for the gladiator held preference of the spear and so challenged the Syrian in different manner than facing overwhelming skill as he did when opposing Crixus or Spartacus. His size made it difficult to gain any advantage over such weapon and so Nasir gained greater experience in applying countless lessons imparted upon him by this time.

Oenomaus would normally watch such matches and ensure those involved would not develop poor habits, yet with the Germans now partaking in training the former Doctore was not focused upon the Syrian. Absence of voice of authority affected Nasir greatly and he found his mind distracted by doubts of technique he had yet to gain mastery over. Even strikes he would normally hold certainty in faltered at not knowing where mistakes were made. He was neither gladiator nor skilled warrior, but a freed body slave having only just taken up sword and he required instruction if he was to be proficient as he had been in all tasks of his life.

He did not realize extent of distraction until training weapon of his opponent struck him in the stomach, knocking him to his knees as he gasped to regain breath and suppress the minor rise of pain from his side as strike had been close to nearly healed gash and burn. He turned to face the man observing those training and met gaze upon him. Oenomaus did not speak, but his gaze communicated how he expected Nasir to perform in sparring at this point in his progress.

The man expected better from him and Nasir did not like to disappoint those he held respect for.

His opponent waited for him to recover his feet beneath him and took in a final deep breath to collect his thoughts. He may not be experienced warrior as Lugo or Saxa but he had been trained by the most skilled among them and they held reliance upon his progress. Such growth was not dependent upon constant words of encouragement or scolding from Oenomaus. He knew this but had allowed doubt to rise regardless of his knowledge of how such thoughts destroyed him. Belittling skill was a slave habit and he held desire to be rid of it.

His mind focused as he calmed further, as given evidence by the sudden awareness of his opponent’s unspoken words. He had developed defenses about his mind against hearing thoughts absent searching them out, yet he was aware of Lydon’s unspoken words now and he would take advantage of the gladiator’s weakness. His opponent’s own thoughts would serve Nasir as final shield against loss of match.

Their sparring exchange continued, Nasir utilizing his unique talent to stand as final warning when his guard was about to be taken advantage of and he took no further strikes. He had, however, never been more grateful of his size and speed as it was this which truly saved him further pain against the superior skill of the gladiator he faced.

His hair was matted with sweat and his breath was labored when Lydon appeared to recall with whom he opposed: Nasir had developed reputation for never calling for break in training. He would continue long after any other freed man – many gave claim that he would continue for too long and he would silently agree as he cared for throbbing muscles later each evening – yet it was how his body already gained muscle despite wound.

Lydon stood upright and signaled for Nasir to cease, “If we continue any longer, Agron will strike me down for belief that I attempt to return you to medicus’ care. Spare me such and take time to rest.”

Nasir gave slight amused grin in response, “I have already informed him of what consequences shall follow if he makes attempt to interfere in manner I choose to train.” His words were not to diminish Agron’s authority within rebellion, but to enforce that he did not need his heart to stand as protector to him.

The two men clasped forearms as the gladiator laughed at his words. “Then we shall continue at nearest opportunity.”

Nasir would have challenged him to continue now, but remained silent as they both knew remainder of his day was taken with other responsibilities. The Syrian returned his training weapon to organized pile where such materials were kept at edge of temple steps and took much needed water to soothe heat from activity within his body. He was relieved that his limbs, while tired from exertion, responded absent tremble from strain as it had many times over the past weeks. He was growing in strength.

“Your training resumes as claimed,” Gannicus’ voice called from behind Nasir, startling him briefly, and the Syrian looked over shoulder to watch the Celt approach him with wide grin.

“It does,” Nasir responded, uncertain in speaking with the man. He had only broken words with the former gladiator a single time and discussion had not ended amiably. Returning the cup he yet held to barrel of water, he turned his body to face the man in entirety, waiting in silence for Gannicus to speak.

Gannicus did not allow silence to carry for long. “Is this place yet poorly stocked in wine as last I was within these walls?”

Nasir crossed his arms over his chest – posture he had adapted from Agron as to replace slave’s stance of clasping hands at his back – and suppressed urge to walk away absent reply. He wanted to understand the man’s presence here before speaking to him as though he had not already chosen to part from their camp and cause.

“We are not a brothel. If you hold desire for drink other than water, claim it for yourself at safe distance from our path.” Nasir spoke in even voice, revealing no emotion so as to conceal his continued unease at not knowing what was expected of him. It did appear to the Syrian as though Gannicus had used query simply as reason for approach and would break words he intended without much questioning by Nasir.

Gannicus gave chuckle of amusement and replied, “Bite yet remains.”

“What expectation did you hold in returning?” Words were carefully selected so as to offer Gannicus opportunity to speak his intent, meaning of which Nasir held confidence the man would understand. The Celt had already proven to possess keen mind, despite how flooded with wine it always seemed to be.

_Clever boy…_ Unspoken words proved Nasir correct.

“I held fair expectation of returning to find all here to be cut down in act of defending foolish cause. Instead I find numbers swelled with yet more willing to hasten day of death.”

Nasir recalled how Gannicus had remained at side of Oenomaus while the man had recovered from injuries of torture and arena. Though deep bond between them had been damaged by unknown event, theirs was a friendship that would be mended in time. For now though, such bond would serve Nasir’s message to the former gladiator, “Fools Oenomaus made choice to remain with.” Gannicus’ eyes narrowed in brief anger before humor again took command of expression.

“I have long known of the man’s lack of proper sense,” he attempted jest yet Nasir noticed lack of conviction.

Nasir knew words he wished to respond with, yet hesitated for how cruel they seemed to him and was concerned over invoking fury of a man who stood of such great skill. However, he recalled with haste how he had yet to break words to truly anger the Celt and so allowed words to find voice. “He is sure to feel relief in knowledge that you shall live out your days in wisdom of ignoring fool’s cause until his life is claimed fighting for what he holds belief in.”

Celt’s humor remained, yet it seemed of greater strain for the man to keep it so. “You know little of Oenomaus to believe he will fall with ease, cause or no.”

“It is truth that I hold little knowledge of the man, yet I hold no belief of an easy death coming to him. Belief stands yours for thought that we are naught but fools, no longer men living but those awaiting death.”

The Celt did not anger, yet humor was no longer retained upon face. He appeared baffled, as though he had been unable to anticipate lengths Nasir would tread to make point against the former Champion.

“Gannicus,” Crixus’ voice called to the Celt as the Gaul came to stand at the man’s side. Gannicus used distraction to recover composure and turned to grasp Crixus’ forearm in greeting.

“Crixus, have you broken words with the Syrian?” Gannicus questioned the man with wide smile returned to expression. Nasir felt brief irritation at the man’s refusal to call him by any other than that before he realized his name was likely not known.

The Gaul appeared confused at such question – Nasir assumed because it seemed foolish to question if two people sharing camp and cause could have never broken words – before expression of amusement formed. Such shift in response occurred when he looked to Nasir and took notice of the Syrian’s posture and stoic expression. He had brought the Syrian to irritation oft enough to recognize mood as one which held proof of his sharp mind.

“I have made such mistake upon occasion. Nasir’s tongue cuts deeper than any blade when given provocation,” Crixus gave response Nasir nearly smiled at.

“I held assumption that position of body slave was reliant upon holding one’s tongue,” Gannicus responded and Crixus grinned briefly, possibly anticipating the answer Nasir would give for he had made such comment on occasion previous.

“And gladiators have proven to give words absent thought with great regularity. If I remained silent as shade none would know sense truly exists within these walls.”

_Was that forever your intent Melitta, to stand as sensible among foolish?_

Crixus must have held notice of Nasir’s face giving revelation of his confusion at unspoken words, for he offered interruption to claim Gannicus’ attention to give Nasir opportunity to regain composure. While he had spent much time training his mind to shield unspoken words from reaching him accidentally as he yet felt great pain when it occurred, strong thoughts yet penetrated mind. When such occurred, he would normally suffer brief distraction until pain passed. The three gladiators who knew of his ability had learned how to recognize when unspoken words were unexpectedly witnessed and would provide him support as the situation required, just as Crixus did now.

The name Melitta was not one Nasir had previously heard, though that was not strange as there were many within the House of Batiatus that were never spoken of. What truly gave distraction to the Syrian had been the great pain and sorrow that accompanied thoughts; this woman – of whom Nasir reminded Gannicus of in some manner – had meant much to the former gladiator and he yet mourned her. Recalling Gannicus’ words of how a body slave should remain silent, Nasir wondered if the Celt had been made a part of the many secrets held within the ludus and connected family. He had learned much of Quintus Lentulus Batiatus and his wife Lucretia from Mira and Naevia and it was not a thing far from possible, especially with Gannicus’ former position of Champion.

Having settled both ache in his head and curiosity of mind, Nasir returned his attention to the two men before him, then uncrossed his arms and gave discreet signal to Crixus to indicate distraction was no longer necessary. Only the span of a few moments had passed – his mind’s swift nature benefitting him greatly – yet it would have been long enough to hold notice by the Celt if conversation had remained between the two of them.

“Next time the Undefeated Gaul speaks of caution, you should heed words,” Crixus spoke to Gannicus in recognized amusement. “He does not remain so kind if foolishness is repeated.” Gannicus looked between the two men as if making attempt to determine honesty of Crixus’ claim that Nasir’s impatient words had been words of kindness. Crixus did not allow pause to continue though as he turned his attention to the Syrian. “Mira requests your aid in matter of supplies and where you have moved items to in your attempts to remain occupied during healing. When finished, Naevia calls for you to check state of wound after training as you did.”

Nasir could not keep amusement from lifting his lips in grin. “The Undefeated Gaul now stands as woman’s messenger? What have you done to deserve such punishment?”

As expected, Crixus scowled at him in response. “I offer aid and you treat me to insult. Proof need not be made for sake of Gannicus.” Despite the man’s glum expression, Nasir knew there to be no true anger in the Gaul’s words. There was genuine bond between the two of them now. Nasir was accepted by the Gaul to be of their brotherhood regardless of his relationship with Agron, which was why he was willing to act as informant of what was desired of the Syrian, especially when request was made by Naevia.

Making decision that learning of Gannicus’ intentions among rebellion could be attempted again later; he bid the two men a good day and departed for other responsibility that demanded his attention.

* * *

Nasir watched as Lucius parted company with Ilithyia in solemn haste. Agron looked down the passage after the man as well then returned his gaze to the Syrian.

“Words broken with the woman have unsettled his mind. He is uncertain of action he should take,” Nasir revealed without question being voiced. He had certainly grown accustomed to speaking of thoughts he bore witness to as long as it did not betray any to do so.

Agron nodded acceptance of the man’s dilemma; Nasir did not appear concerned so he would dismiss it as well.

He looked back to the Roman woman, noticing that her eyes had remained exposed though he held no concern over that for nothing would reveal their location from this deep within the temple. She was still bound tightly and appeared to hold no intention of making attempt to gain escape through force. Her eyes had even slid closed and she relaxed to take any rest she could in such dire situation.

Laying eyes upon the woman brought memories of the ludus to his thoughts. She had been there on his first day upon the sands, staining the memory with exposure that had led to the death of Segovax. As that man had stood a Gaul, Agron had held no affection for him yet the man’s crucifixion had plagued the German’s thoughts for weeks after.

Lesson of what it meant to stand a slave was learned.

Agron had embraced new life, his brother at his side and learning the ways of a gladiator made such harsh truth of his position easily endured until Spartacus had led them to liberation.

It was in following Spartacus that Agron had been led to Nasir. Just the thought of his heart brought mind ease and his chest filled with affection toward the Syrian. Nasir had come to mean so much to him that he often had difficulty understanding how he was able to contain such emotion. Though, if Mira was to be believed, he held no success of concealing any measure of his feelings when his eyes fell upon the young man.

A soft laugh from the man at his side interrupted his thoughts and he looked down to see Nasir bring up a hand to conceal his amused expression. “So this stands as true reason Spartacus never assigns you as guard. You truly hold no skill for the task.”

“What gives cause to such claim?” Agron moved to stand closer to the Syrian, his posture straightening to tower above the smaller man. If it had been any other than Nasir, such action would have been a threat. However it only brought out more laughter from his heart, though sound brought Agron deep satisfaction as it was yet a rare thing heard from Nasir.

“You have passed time since Spartacus gave task either pacing or so deep within mind Lugo could have come upon your back absent notice. If you alone had been set to task, the woman could have been upon road returning to Capua by now.”

“Fucking Syrian,” Agron growled at the ease in which Nasir teased him, words holding greater irritation in that they were completely accurate claims to be made. Agron had never held favor for any manner of guard duty for the lack of activity. When his body remained idle for too long, his mind would become active to compensate. “What makes you so certain my mind is not upon task when you are witness to none of my unspoken words?”

Nasir’s dark eyes, nearly black in their entirety from darkness of their surroundings, turned to look up at Agron and the German’s breath caught in his chest at how desire rose at the satisfied expression upon the Syrian’s face. Nasir’s hand lifted from his side and rested upon Agron’s his chest, just over his heart with fingers brushing the sensitive skin of his scar.

“I need no gift to know the path of your thoughts, just as you need no such thing to know mine.”

There was much truth to Nasir’s words. Even before feelings of affection had been known and revealed by either of them, they had held a strong bond that allowed understanding of each other. Nasir simply held greater skill with putting thoughts into words and so there were times he appeared to hold greater understanding than Agron.

The German suddenly saw opportunity here and glanced back to Ilithyia quickly to ensure she yet rested and was satisfied when she appeared to be asleep, or at least relaxed enough that she was unaware that neither of her guards paid her any mind now. Looking back to Nasir, his hands lifted and parted the long coat covering Nasir’s body and came to rest upon the skin of the Syrian’s hips just below the bandage, which was now only worn to keep the salve used to aid in the final stages of healing undisturbed through the man’s busy days.

“Then you would know that my thoughts were upon you when interruption was given.”

Nasir’s cheeks flushed slightly at his words – and possibly the intimate tone of his voice – but the smile upon his lips only widened at the revelation. “And what form did such thoughts take?”

Agron stepped closer to the smaller man, close enough that he could now feel the heat of Nasir’s body and his desire grew more intense. “I was giving thought to how I seem incapable of deception when my feelings for you are considered. I thought of how even a man absent vision could see all that I feel for you within my gaze.”

Nasir’s breath caught and his cheeks remained darkened at Agron’s admission. The German spoke often enough of his affection for the Syrian, and they certainly gazed upon each other enough that Nasir could have told him those exact words, yet the desire he was feeling had been reflected in his voice and that was a thing he had never before allowed. He had restrained his body’s need to take Nasir as lover for the many weeks it had been since they had become companions.  Nasir’s healing wound had given Agron a visible reason for restraint when his body ached with need. Yet his true reason for restraint had been the memory of the morning following Chadara’s death and how Nasir had awoken in fear of a man pressed to his back.

Agron feared that if he brought consummation to relationship with the Syrian before he was truly ready, it would be Tiberius that he would lie with instead of Nasir whom he held desire for. He refused to allow the Romans into his and Nasir’s bed in such vile manner.

So he had buried his physical desire and need for Nasir for weeks and now it seemed to be overcoming him in a manner he could neither deny nor conceal. He was giving in…

…And Nasir had yet to deny him.

His grip upon Nasir’s hips was firm, but not so much that it could not be pulled from. There was enough distance between Nasir’s back and the wall behind him that he could step away if he wished and Agron would not follow so as to trap him. Even Nasir’s hand yet remained upon his chest, feeling the strong beat of Agron’s heart.

“You appear certain there is anything to see but the rise of your cock,” Nasir appeared to regain some measure of the composure he had lost to Agron’s confession. He again smiled in his mirth as his eyebrow lifted to challenge Agron’s restraint of pushing further, knowing that for the German to do so would prove Nasir correct in his observation of his inability of keeping to this duty.

Agron could only be pressed so far by his heart before control was destroyed and there was only desire. “It certainly appears difficult to see beyond at the moment,” he said in final warning that Nasir had almost pushed him to the point of his control breaking. Upon previous occasion where Agron had given similar warning, Nasir had smiled his victory and would take action to soothe the man, but that was not his response this time. His right hand instead applied greater pressure against Agron’s chest – the red cloth always kept upon wrist brushing against the sensitive skin of Agron’s chest to further stimulate him – then rose up to his cheek and began to guide Agron’s mouth to his slightly.

“What is there for one East of the Rhine to do to find relief from such torturous state?” Nasir’s voice dropped in a manner Agron had never before heard. It was when he realized the Syrian spoke through his own desire that the German’s control was pushed beyond reason and he at once knew there would be no retreat now.

His hands lifted from Nasir’s hips and cupped the dark skin of the Syrian’s neck and cheeks. He pulled the man from the wall in view of the Roman bitch and turned him enough to guide the smaller man’s back to the opposite wall, Nasir’s left hand moving to grasp Agron’s shoulder in reflex to help stabilize such quick movement. He used his grip of Nasir’s cheeks to control the motion so that head did not strike the wall with the force of movement. Satisfied smile remained on Nasir’s face as if Agron had acted exactly as the Syrian intended, so he closed remaining distance between them and pressed his mouth to Nasir’s in a fierce kiss. His body rocked forward in desperation of feeling the Syrian’s body against his as he so deeply desired.

The sensation of being pressed so intimately with Nasir against unyielding surface caused Agron pleasure beyond his imagining to flow through him and he could not keep his hips from rolling against his heart further as he pulled Nasir’s bottom lip into his mouth and bit down upon the flesh.

Such action appeared to return some of Nasir’s sense as his hands pressed against Agron’s chest and the gladiator allowed himself to be pushed away. Nasir did not hold the strength to force Agron into any movement so it was a matter of deep trust that Agron would always respect Nasir’s right to refuse him. If Nasir truly did not wish for him to continue, Agron would cease his touches. However, when he focused upon Nasir’s face he knew at once that the Syrian did not stop him for absence of desire.

He stopped him for assurance that Agron would heed request.

“We must wait till Spartacus relieves us of charge,” Nasir made attempt to appear as if he would yet cling to responsibility, yet Agron knew nothing would come between their coupling now.

“Time passes too slowly,” he gave reply with a wide smile and Nasir returned such expression.

“We must be quick then.” Hands grasped at Agron again and this time it was the Syrian pulling their bodies together as mouths again crashed together. For the moment Agron satisfied his urge to simply taste Nasir, pressing his tongue into Nasir’s mouth and caressing every corner within eagerly. He briefly cursed their difference in height as now it meant that he could either enjoy taste of Nasir or he could satisfy his body’s need to press against the other man.

Nasir’s right hand moved from his face and trailed down his chest again and Agron made assumption the Syrian was in need of contact with the scar above his heart, yet Nasir’s hand continued to trail down his chest and stomach. Agron’s body became further enflamed at his heart’s touch and rocked forward into the contact even without such being upon flesh that desired touch the most.

When Nasir’s hand turned and grasped his throbbing cock through subligaria, Agron could no longer focus upon keeping his lips to Nasir’s. He parted enough to gasp in pleasure as he was grasped firmly, his eyes remaining closed as he made attempt to regain enough sense to decide how to respond to Nasir’s touch. Contact was brief, only giving him a firm stroke before pulling away as Nasir’s left hand ran through his hair and grasped the back of his neck and his eyes opened to look upon Nasir. The smaller man was smiling up to him in understanding of how he had further enflamed the gladiator. Agron thought briefly how Nasir had just made point of how he knew to bring greatest satisfaction with the slightest touch and such knowledge caused in him greater need to feel what else his heart could do to him.

Feeling Nasir pull him forward again, Agron’s body followed motion and he again pressed into Nasir’s smaller body. His lips fell upon Nasir’s face just above pliant ones, their height making it impossible to be pressed together so and taste each other’s mouths. Again Agron seemed to satisfy much of his need through the pressing of lips alone as he hunched his back and allowed their bodies to separate so he could resume their heated kiss.

The intimate caressing of lips and tongues continued for untold passing of time. Each time they parted for breath which offered opportunity to move forward in their coupling they would simply be drawn back into another kiss.

Agron had only just considered lifting Nasir from the ground so further pleasure could be had when Mira’s voice called to them. "This is how you stand guard?”

Agron pulled away and turned, his body tensing to respond to threat, ready to push Nasir behind him if needed as the other man did not have the same reaction to startle yet ingrained within him. Once Agron’s clouded mind realized there was no threat, he turned to see Nasir’s eyes lower at being caught in such embrace. The German was about to reach out to discourage such reaction when Nasir turned to Mira and Agron realized the Syrian had merely been collecting thoughts, the younger man commanding greater discipline in controlling his mind.

“Apologies, we were…” Nasir’s words, while usually certain and well planned, faltered quickly. It seemed as though even Nasir could not recover as quickly from such desire and Agron spoke quickly to give aid before considering what he would say.

“We were…” It appeared he could only follow Nasir’s lead though as he also seemed incapable of thinking of anything that could explain their activities while on guard. Making attempt again, “We were just…” was as useless as his first one and he was surprised to see Nasir let out a short laugh of amusement. It appeared that the Syrian’s humor was closer to the surface after such intimacy and Agron – as always – was distracted by such beautiful sight and sound. His distraction allowed his own humor to rise and he laughed for the fact that they had even made attempt at all to give explanation to any who knew of their feelings toward the other.

Of even greater amusement was that it was Mira who they made such attempt toward. The woman was forever encouraging them to display their bond to Nasir’s frustration and Agron’s amusement. She truly desired for their happiness together and Agron now believed that there could have been no better person to witness them so caught up in each other that they did not realize she had approached.

“Take to your bed,” she gave command with amusement barely restrained. “I will assume watch over Ilithyia.” It was only her mention of the Roman woman that Agron truly remembered why they had even held some concern over being discovered so. With burden of responsibility removed, he locked gaze with Nasir and tilted his head down the hall, indicating for the Syrian to take leave as instructed. As Nasir walked away toward Mira, who watched him approach with a wide smile upon her face, Agron took a deep breath to calm his body enough to walk the distance to their room.

He turned and walked toward Mira, her amused gaze upon him the entire way. He passed her, then turned toward her and placed his hand upon her shoulder, feeling the need to acknowledge her offer and understanding of how desperately he now needed to join with Nasir. “Gratitude,” his voice revealed his deep relief and Mira laughed at hearing such from the man. He turned away and followed after Nasir, the smaller man moving silently ahead of him toward their room.

As cloth of privacy was parted and Agron stepped into their room behind Nasir, he reached out and wrapped both arms tightly around Nasir’s waist, pulling the compact body against him. Such contact against his yet firm cock again awakened all fire that had abated in the short journey to privacy. His hips pushed forward to answer such desire and his flesh strained against Nasir’s lower back in manner that conveyed how great his need was.

“My desire for you is greater than any man has ever had for another, Nasir,” he breathed the words into the Syrian’s ear and felt the small body inhale quickly in response. He had other words he would convey though, to further remind Nasir that this was unlike any other experience he had ever had. This would be a thing Nasir wanted and held command over. “Know that your desires will be forever answered by my hands. I do not wish to lay claim upon you for we stand as equals. I only wish to show you the pleasure that can be had in laying with one whose heart you hold.”

Nasir turned enough to look up to Agron at the gladiator’s claim.  It was proof of how greatly Agron struggled with putting his feelings to words that this stood as first time he had plainly told Nasir of the love he held for him. The only time he had given admission to his feelings had been to Crixus when he had offered apology for deception, which had nearly cost the Syrian’s life. Agron used action to communicate his thoughts and Nasir held no difficulty in understanding him. Yet Agron would not have doubt exist within Nasir of the truth of his feelings toward him when they finally lay together in intimate embrace.

To know that such deep love and devotion stood as cause for desire appeared to have a greater effect upon Nasir as the small body relaxed completely against Agron, entrusting the gladiator entirely in keeping him upon feet. “And I wish to share pleasure with the one who holds my heart as well.” Agron felt rush of emotion at Nasir’s response to the German’s words. Not only had the Syrian displayed physical trust toward Agron in relaxing so, but that words had been broken to speak of similar feelings had not been expected. Nasir held such reservation with others – even his companion at times – that to hear such open declaration gave revelation of how trust between them had progressed.

His right arm moved from about Nasir’s waist to cross over the compact chest of the man against him to take hold of the Syrian’s chin, pushing to tilt Nasir’s face enough so as to kiss soft lips once more. This kiss was different from the ones they had shared mere moments ago in that while it was as deep and exploring as the others, desperation was now absent. It was a slow joining of their bodies that conveyed the depth of feelings for one another.

The kiss gradually became more heated though as desire returned with haste and Agron’s hand moved from Nasir’s neck and pulled the clothing from about the Syrian’s shoulders and moved his body away enough for it to slide down Nasir’s arms. It did not fall completely as Nasir had reached up to remove the leather bracers Agron wore about his wrists and they fell to the floor, leaving only the cloths that kept his skin protected from the armor.

While Agron had found another to replace the one he had given Nasir, he had kept the pair of the red cloth he had given Nasir. At first it had been a simple matter of showing care for limited supplies, but when the Syrian had returned from the mines with the one given wrapped about his wrist Agron had felt relief that he yet donned his own. In this life of blood and battle it was as close as the two would come to ceremony recognizing their bond and commitment to one another.

And now as Nasir’s hand came up to touch Agron’s when they parted for breath, the matched cloths came together. As Agron became aware of this, he could not keep smile from lips at sight before he leaned down again and resumed the passionate kiss between them.

It was moments later when Nasir made attempt to lift his other arm to grasp at Agron’s neck to hold him close when he at last felt the pull of the cloak yet settled about his arms that he seemed to remember it was even there. His hands pulled away from Agron to extend so that encumbering cloth would be removed from concern, then pulled away from the kiss only enough to turn and face his body toward Agron entirely. He then wrapped both arms securely about Agron’s neck and lifted himself to resume the kiss. Agron felt how much Nasir stretched his body to keep their lips connected and decided that he was finished with sacrificing contact for kissing and wrapped his arms back about Nasir’s waist and lifted the small body from the floor.

Agron recalled the only other time he had lifted Nasir completely – suspicion that the Syrian would despise being handled so kept him from doing such especially in jest – and compared the sensation of an unresponsive body on the brink of death to the tightening of arms about him and legs wrapping tightly about his hips to cling to him. There was no question of which he preferred as he walked the few steps of distance to their pallet and kneeled upon it before carefully lowering them down to the comfort of their bedroll.

Such position allowed the men’s bodies to finally press completely against one another and they parted lips to give response, Agron letting out a deep groan of pleasure while Nasir inhaled with a hiss. To have Nasir pressed against a wall was of no comparison to the satisfaction of having this compact and beautiful body entrusted to him upon a bed, responding in pleasure of being pressed together so. Yet Agron desired more, so he pulled his arms from beneath Nasir’s body and moved away enough to pull the length of leather that held his gladius over his head to toss it aside. Nasir’s hands moved to his waist as well and worked to unclasp the belt of his pteruges and codpiece. Agron was about to remove his subligaria when Nasir reached for his face and pulled him in for another heated kiss.

Agron’s right hand came up to cup Nasir’s cheek, his fingers brushing into long hair before burying completely within it, dislodging the cord securing it back so he could further enjoy the soft strands that rivaled the finest threads in Rome. It was when he allowed his arm to relax along Nasir’s neck that he felt the pounding of the Syrian’s heart. The speed of the beats far surpassed pace of beats he experienced now, and he held suspicion that Nasir had needed the familiar feel of kissing Agron to calm himself before treading further into unfamiliar intimacy they were now entering.

He pulled away from Nasir’s kiss, though he again pulled on the bottom lip with his teeth as they parted, and rested his forehead against Nasir’s in another position of familiarity which provided great comfort to both of them. Nasir’s dark eyes opened and their gazes met as they both breathed deeply to regain some control. Agron maintained the contact as he lifted his body enough to reach down again and remove the final bit of cloth concealing his body. Nasir’s eyes remained upon him as Agron then gripped the breeches concealing Nasir’s body from him. Slim hips lifted in permission and the last shield between them was removed slowly. Agron wished to see the entirety of Nasir’s body, but just as he was about to pull away, Nasir’s hands grasped at his face to keep him in place. He smiled down to the Syrian, encouraging the man to take whatever he needed from the gladiator to enjoy their coupling. After all, this would not be the only day they had to enjoy each other and Agron would never grow tired of his heart’s company or body. He instead relaxed his body back upon Nasir’s and allowed the man to feel his exposed body as he could feel Nasir’s.

Nasir gasped again, the pressure against his own arousal bringing pleasure, and his hips rocked forward into Agron’s body to give chase to pleasure. His eyes remained locked upon Agron and it was such contact that communicated to the German that he was prepared for their coupling to continue. Agron brushed his lips briefly against Nasir’s as he reached to the small table beside the bedroll and sought out the vial of oil Nasir used to work free knots within his hair. They would need to find other oils to use in future couplings, yet this would be sufficient for this night.

Nasir watched his movements carefully and Agron had to suppress anger at the thought that no man who had previously taken the Syrian had held consideration enough to prepare him. There stood no way to determine truth of such thought other than asking Nasir – Agron could not even put together words to ask such a thing – yet he had witnessed how Romans seemed to fuck slaves absent comfort or consideration.

Despite the German’s desire to conceal the fury growing within at thoughts of those who had brought pain to his heart through his young life, the Syrian appeared to always understand his mind. Soft lips pressed lightly to his and his eyes focused upon the beautiful young man pressed to him. “You hold my heart,” Nasir whispered to him and that was the only reminder Agron required to know that this was unlike anything Nasir had experienced. This was not satisfaction that was being taken, but a connection of their bodies that would reflect the one they had already formed between heart and mind.

He smiled widely at Nasir before pressing their lips together briefly before moving his mouth along dark skin of Nasir’s chin and down his neck. He followed Nasir’s responses, his lips and tongue taking in the taste of his heart as he worked oil over his fingers. It was when his lips pressed to the side of Nasir’s neck and grazed his teeth along where he could feel the beat of Nasir’s heart that the Syrian’s hips lifted against Agron and inhaled loudly. Agron grinned as he recalled how sensitive Nasir’s neck had remained after removal of collar. It appeared such sensitivity had not passed and Agron would gladly use that to advantage of Nasir’s pleasure. He returned his lips to the same point and alternated between rolling the skin between teeth and tongue, causing Nasir to grasp at Agron’s wide shoulders and his arousal strained against Agron’s stomach.

Using such pleasure as distraction, Agron moved his oiled fingers up Nasir’s thigh and to the opening he longed to press into. He rubbed his fingers along the outside in warning before pressing in slightly. When he felt no resistance to intrusion, he pressed the length of his finger into Nasir with ease. The smaller man’s only response was to gasp softly at being entered after much time without, yet his body remained relaxed. Agron withdrew and pressed in a second finger and this time Nasir hissed through the entrance, though the gladiator could not discern if the sound was from pleasure or discomfort. The muscles encasing his fingers did not resist him, making it even more difficult to recognize how Nasir’s body was truly reacting to the penetration. Moving his fingers in and out of Nasir, he stretched the tight passage out for many moments before he slid a third finger in.

Nasir’s hand released his back and reached down to grasp his wrist once the fingers were fully within him. He stopped the motion and moved his face from Nasir’s neck to look down at the smaller man. Nasir’s eyes were closed tightly and his breaths came in shallow gasps and his struggle to remain relaxed as he was became obvious. Pain, however, did not appear to stand as cause for struggle as Agron was aware of how much his heart could bear. It could only be memory that plagued Nasir now and Agron knew at once what he must do for his heart.

Agron shifted position so his right elbow rested upon the bed beside Nasir’s head and urged the Syrian to lift his head enough so that Agron could lay his forearm beneath the man’s neck to pillow head. This position also served purpose of pressing the raised skin of his brand into Nasir’s neck, the sensitive skin further serving purpose of reminding Nasir of whom he was allowing inside his body.

The grip on Agron’s wrist loosened enough that he knew he was no longer being restrained so he continued in task of stretching the opening for his girth. He ignored the feel of raised flesh of scarring within Nasir – evidence of being taken with force great enough to cause injury – as it would only cause anger to rise within him and instead focused upon task of bringing pleasure to the Syrian. He pressed his lips to Nasir’s to give distraction with passion he was familiar with as his fingers sought out the place within that would bring greatest pleasure to the smaller man. He found it quickly and Nasir broke his lips away and let out a quiet moan – the first real sound he had made to this point – and his hips lifted into Agron’s to press his arousal into the solid heat of the gladiator’s body. He continued to apply pressure, encouraging the man in his arms to pursue desire as he should have always had the right to do. It was only when Agron’s own desire could no longer be delayed that he pulled his hand from the intimate touch and spread oil yet upon hand over his cock and lined up to finally enter Nasir.

As it had remained to this point, Nasir’s entrance did not resist penetration regardless of any pain he was experiencing. Agron pushed in slowly, knowing another disadvantage in the difference of size would be Nasir’s smaller body taking him with ease. He could already feel the muscles surrounding his cock stretch to take him in and he could not keep the growl of pleasure that passed his lips at being so tightly embraced. Once he was fully within Nasir’s body, he managed to control his desire – a thing only possible because it was Nasir and he could always find control when it concerned his heart – and kept from moving until Nasir gave indication that he was ready. Both men took many deep breaths to regain mind and when Nasir’s eyes finally opened and he locked gaze with Agron, the gladiator knew there would be no stopping again for either of them.

Agron’s hips finally began to move, pulling out and then thrusting back into Nasir’s body in a steady pace aimed for that place of pleasure within. The Syrian responded by moving his own body into every thrust and soon the two settled into a fevered pace that aimed toward satisfaction they both had been deprived of for far too long. Through every motion, dark brown eyes remained locked with green ones so that Agron would continue to know his desires absent words he was incapable of finding with such pleasure clouding mind. Agron continued to allow Nasir to chase desire and moved his free hand between their bodies and grasped Nasir’s cock, moist from the liquid dripping from the end, and stroked his companion in time with his thrusts.

The addition of such stimulation seemed to press Nasir further into pleasure than he had been prepared for and he let out another soft moan. It only took a few more strokes for Nasir to reach his peak and his seed spilled over both men’s stomachs, his muscles clenching about Agron as the man continued to thrust into the quickly relaxing body seeking his own completion as swiftly as he could. Nasir’s eyes continued to watch him and his lips lifted briefly before he surprised Agron by tightening the muscles of his entrance around Agron’s arousal and that was all the German needed to finish and he spilled deep within his companion with a deep moan, his eyes closing in his pleasure as he pressed his forehead against Nasir’s.

Both men continued to breathe heavily from the activity of their joining, remaining close enough that they felt each breath the other took, leaning forward on occasion to brush their lips together.

Once Agron had regained some strength, he allowed his softened cock to slip from Nasir and reached for a length of cloth they kept by their bedroll for the continued care of Nasir’s wound and used it to wipe their bodies clean. He then rolled his body off of the Syrian and used his arm yet beneath the smaller man’s neck to pull his heart against his side. Nasir followed the motion and curled his body into Agron’s warmth, extending his right arm across the German’s wide chest to rest over his heart and scar.

Running his hand through dark hair as he usually did at any opportunity, Agron felt Nasir let out a heavy breath and further relax into his embrace. Touching his lips to Nasir’s temple, sleep began to claim him swiftly and he allowed it as he felt the breath against his chest even into the familiar pattern of Nasir falling to slumber.

* * *

Awakening upon an instant from the slightest of disturbances, prepared for completion of any task absent need for pause was trait shared by both body slave and gladiator. While both also bore the habit of rising with the sun, a sort of game between Agron and Nasir had taken form in being the first to awaken each morning before discovering how long it would be until the other man rose as well. Once both no longer slept, company would be shared conversing in quiet tones or simply lying together in comfort.

It was this time in dawn of each day that the pair truly found depth of their bond, for no other bore witness to them in these moments of solitude.

Nasir was the first to come awake this morn, an unfamiliar sensation passing through his body having disturbed his rest. A change in his breathing stood as only indication he no longer slept – he had quickly adapted to hazards of startling a gladiator from sleep – as he made attempt to expose what had held difference enough to awaken him so.

It only took a brief moment and a deep breath for his body to reveal answer: he had allowed Agron to enter him the previous night. He had allowed a thing he had never before given permission of and had even found true pleasure in doing so. That was what had given cause for such unfamiliar feelings to rise within him for he had prior to the previous night only fucked in following command. Such had left him absent desire for the act and he had held belief when freed that he would not again allow another to spread his legs.

…Unlike Chadara…

Yet he had chosen to do so. He had done all but give command for Agron to fuck him, though he could not imagine such words falling from his lips as he had been forced to break like words for the satisfaction of Romans and he would not have his relationship with Agron be tainted by memories of dark past. He had responded to Agron’s desire with his own emerging in seduction of a manner he had never before known. It had been seduction given direction by his knowledge of the German gladiator to test the man’s control until it broke. Such action would have never worked on any other than Agron and Nasir took great pride in how naturally it had occurred.

Though Agron’s loss of control had not altered how he always treated Nasir: kindness and aggression emerging in balance that spoke of equal footing between the two men. Agron continued to do all in his ability to protect Nasir while allowing him to grow into the man he was always meant to be.

“Your mind could wake the dead,” Agron’s voice broke through such thoughts and Nasir cursed in his surprise. He had truly been so taken within mind that he had taken no notice of Agron awakening. He must be growing more comfortable in the German’s company, though such would not be cause for complaint.

“As proven by you parting from sleep,” Nasir responded in familiar jest. The Syrian could accomplish more without waking Agron for he was more practiced in movement absent notice, a thing that had become a matter of pride for him to point out to the German. Agron held advantage over him in so many things that he had to give appreciation to all he managed to hold over his heart.

Agron turned toward the smaller man, using his bulk to press Nasir into their pallet and his body settled between Nasir’s legs as they parted naturally to keep much of the German’s weight from resting upon him. This allowed the entirety of their naked bodies to press together, much as they had the previous night. The gladiator – who had obviously held intention to respond to the tease with changing position – halted in action and his breath caught within chest. His eyes locked gaze with Nasir and the two simply stared at each other silently.

As was common between the pair, words were unnecessary and Agron soon smiled with Nasir soon to follow expression of happiness before their lips pressed together, tongues immediately coming out to meet as well. Feeling Agron’s arm yet curled beneath his head where it had remained throughout night shift, Nasir lifted up enough to allow such movement and felt fingers card through his hair and massage against his scalp. Agron held such favor in touching his hair and face that such contact now brought comfort to the Syrian and he breathed a sigh of pleasure into Agron’s mouth.

The German pulled his lips away and moved to bury face into Nasir’s neck to immediately press into skin upon the Syrian’s neck that caused heart to beat swifter and his body to enflame further.

Nasir’s body began to respond to attention given him aiming for his pleasure when whisper echoed through his mind: Spartacus was making approach with intention of demanding Agron’s counsel. Nasir sighed as he pushed on Agron’s chest, the man responding immediately to any possible refusal.

“Spartacus approaches,” Nasir spoke in explanation, his voice quiet in his arousal and Agron groaned his disappointment as he pulled his body from Nasir’s so they could cover their bodies.

Spartacus called out to his brother just as Agron tied his subligaria in place and Nasir had pulled his breeches up about his hips. Agron returned the call, informing the Thracian he was welcome to enter. Curtain parted and Spartacus stepped into their small room though remained just a step within, allowing the two men respect of distance.

“Apologies for intruding at such early hour, yet action answers necessity,” Spartacus spoke with haste, yet not absent honesty of regret in disturbance.

“Has decision been made of what is to be done with Roman wench?” Agron asked as he sat down upon the pallet once his few lengths of protective leather were secured in place. He sat near enough Nasir that their legs and arms brushed upon each other, allowing them contact they both took comfort in.

“It has. Lucius has already departed for Capua to give offer to Glaber. His wife to be traded for weapons, exchange to be made this night in Atella.” Agron appeared shocked at plan’s details.

“You allow freedom returned to her as well as her life spared?” Agron questioned. “What of your vengeance?” Agron was not speaking absent respect, but giving voice to question only closest of friend would ask.

“Opportunity of arming our people is of greatest importance.”

_Vengeance is not worth life of innocent._

Words given voice and unspoken came together, a thing of rare occurrence within rebellion – greater rarity concerning Spartacus as the man was honest in his leadership – and Nasir’s eyes lowered in his confusion of which words were actually broken. When his eyes lifted again, the Thracian’s gaze was upon him, having noticed and recognized the Syrian’s action being in response to unspoken words and was now awaiting his choice of revelation. Spartacus obviously struggled with decision made and was uncertain of what had guided his choice. There stood no purpose in giving revelation to doubts, so Nasir remained silent.

“Your pity spares one who has made attempt upon you nearly as often as her husband,” Agron spoke, seeming to know Spartacus’ thoughts as well as Nasir had.

“If Glaber refuses trade, then her life is forfeit. Value of her life lies in trade alone.”

Agron nodded acceptance of Spartacus’ decision. “And you trust Lucius to carry out task?”

“You yet question his loyalty to cause?” Spartacus’ voice conveyed frustration.

“Only for doubts he holds in self,” Agron explained, reminding Nasir of unspoken words he had given brief revelation of.

“When he parted company with Ilithyia, Lucius struggled with choice over what she had offered him in exchange for her release,” Nasir offered deeper explanation. “Promise to not bear mark of fugitivus appeared to cause greatest distress, yet I do not imagine it required great effort to prove Roman words hollow.” Nasir often broke words with Lucius as the aged man enjoyed the Syrian’s quick mind in conversation and made use of his varied skills. Such time spent in the Roman’s company allowed Nasir to hold no concern over the man’s loyalty to rebellion and he knew Agron would trust his judge of character in this.

“Indeed, I hold no doubts of his intentions. He will deliver message and return with answer of our next move. Until then, we will continue training of the Germans. I will train with Nasir until Lucius returns. I have been unable to do so for many days and would know of progress you have accomplished.”

Nasir and Agron both nodded acceptance of task and finished dressing for the day, giving each other one final private kiss and a touch of foreheads before departing after their leader and friend.

Once they reached the courtyard and Agron parted from them to speak with Oenomaus of day’s training, Spartacus and Nasir claimed weapons and area in which to train. As it had been some time since Spartacus had held opportunity to observe the Syrian closely, he first gave instruction for Nasir to progress through basic strikes with his sword upon the pallus, making adjustment to grip or stance or angle of strike as was needed.

Nasir committed every correction to memory – as he did upon every occurrence of holding weapon in hand – and called upon each detail with every repeat until he no longer required such thought to move with accuracy. It was such methodical manner that had seen him to valued position of body slave at the young age of fifteen and now it served him in learning skills of warrior. Difference of purpose only gave aid to his determination to learn with great efficiency so that wound upon torso was never repeated.

The two men moved on to exchanging blows absent strength soon afterward. Spartacus struck with tight control, unsure at first of how much the Syrian could endure, yet caution faded with haste and he was soon striking with just enough force to remain within Nasir’s capability to defend against. It was a balance in constant fluctuation as Nasir’s skill was further developed with certain strikes than others. Such precision gave reminder that it was the Slayer of Theokoles he faced and only Oenomaus – as former Doctore – held greater skill in adjusting strikes as was needed for greatest progress.

Nasir found himself making comparison between the Thracian and all others he trained with. Crixus and Agron would usually decide upon level of strength and pace at onset of training and would maintain it, helping the Syrian to build endurance and skill for adapting his affinity for speed and agility against greater strength. They forced him to develop strategy of unbalanced fight and pressed him to limit of his body.

Donar was another he often paired with, though that was of least favor for the man held habit of refusing to weaken blows unless given order by Agron or Spartacus – or now Oenomaus. It was not out of anger or remaining dislike for Nasir’s attempt on Spartacus, but just how the man had chosen to aid the younger man in his training. As he held no hesitation in explanation, warriors had to endure pain absent pause if they were to be of use in battle. This was the manner of aid the gladiator offered to Nasir’s training.

Time passed through exchange of blows and Spartacus continued to give instruction to Nasir until guard upon wall reported of Lucius’ return. Spartacus parted from Nasir with a quick grasp of his arm and words of encouragement for his progress before going to meet the elder Roman. It was soon after that the Thracian spoke to all of the trade to occur and how Agron, Crixus, and Gannicus were to accompany him. The four men moved within shelter of temple to discuss further plans and Nasir held no hesitation in following, needing to express his growing unease of the mission.

“Nasir?” Agron made notice of his approach first and moved to meet him but was refused with a simple shake of the Syrian’s head.

“Would you allow us but a moment, Gannicus?” Nasir requested the man’s absence. He would not reveal his gift to the Celt until the man had proven to be of sound mind toward rebellion. The former gladiator appeared shocked at such request, yet departed when Spartacus indicated for him to heed Nasir. Once the man was removed from company, the Syrian turned attention to rebel leaders with unwavering gaze and spoke, “I would accompany you to Atella.”

Spartacus did not appear surprised by his words. “Did you not voice same request in going to Neapolis?” Nasir’s response to the Thracian’s somewhat amused query was a venomous look.

“Such request was different for it was born of fear.” His eyes moved quickly to Agron before returning to Spartacus. “While I yet hold concern, it is for exchange alone. What will be done if perceived advantage is false?” It was errant unspoken words of Ilithyia that birthed concern and Nasir would not ignore such now that he stood entrusted for hearing words such as those.

It was Crixus who gave response. “Even if he would not risk such for wife, he would for his heir. Romans will go to great lengths to protect their namesake.”

Crixus made valid point, yet it was not enough for Nasir. “Ilithyia finds no comfort in her child. Why should we?” He sighed lightly and ran fingers through his hair, pushing back what had come free during training. “I do not ask to replace any going. I will take position near enough to give warning if betrayal is intended.”

“Is there such a place?” Nasir turned to Agron at the man voicing such question. “You cannot hear unspoken words over distance greater than what your ears perceive. The distance is even less if it is a thing concealed. You do not hold skill enough to pull thoughts from mind through force either. You would need to stand at our side to be close enough and your warning would expose gift to some who may see it for what it is.”

That Agron knew limitations of Nasir’s abilities did not surprise – the man paid close mind to Nasir in all aspects including his progress of ability – yet accuracy of knowledge did give the Syrian pause. That such knowledge was now used against Nasir’s choice also brought confusion as it was unexpected for Agron to act in manner to restrain one he always encouraged progress within.

“What exposure could be had?” the Syrian would not submit, especially not to his heart.

“If Ashur accompanies Glaber he could see truth of Nasir’s gift.” Nasir’s rising frustration was halted by such observation, one that certainly held much truth. Ashur had spent many years within their lands and would hold better understanding of beliefs than the young former body slave did. The other man may very possibly see truth behind his presence and any warning given. Agron turned focus to Spartacus and Crixus who did not understand reason for concern over Ashur’s presence. “Nasir told me of how his people place great honor in oracles and may not hesitate to believe of his gift as we did.”

Spartacus turned to Nasir. “Does he speak truth?” It was not distrust of Agron that caused him to question words – for the German had never acted to restrain Nasir as this would – but to hear truth from Nasir as well. Their leader only wished to have a true understanding of Nasir’s capabilities as well as dangers of bearing them so as to be utilized appropriately.

Nasir sighed again as his posture fell by some measure. “Yes, though I admit I had not considered how Ashur’s presence may have revealed me to enemy. It is not of guarantee, yet it is enough risk to guide decision. I only wish to give aid as you have asked of me and I hold great doubts in success of this mission.”

Spartacus approached the smaller man and grasped Nasir’s shoulder. “You have been of great aid already, Nasir. I will consider how we may better prepare for betrayal absent your knowledge. We will not be cut down this day.”

Nasir was too ill at ease to take comfort from words. “Do not make habit of breaking words that cannot be kept, for you have remained a man of your word to this time.”

He turned and walked away, passing Gannicus in a corridor far enough away that he had not overheard and telling the man to return. He walked to the courtyard where many had continued training, yet he sat upon the steps instead of joining to watch activity around him. His mind was on the men within the temple about to meet the one who wished for naught but their deaths. That the four meeting Glaber stood as those of greatest skilled gladiators did little to comfort when faced with one holding command over the might of Rome.

“Nasir,” Oenomaus’ voice called for his attention and he responded immediately. “Return to training or see day put to waste. Thoughts alone will not see change to outcome of mission.” The former Doctore gave instruction yet there was tone of humor to words; he understood the Syrian’s concern as he likely shared it and offered distraction of progress. Nasir stood and followed instruction given, learning all he could over many hours under guidance of the teacher of Gods.

He would yet reach skill of never again being left behind.

* * *

Return of those who had lifted sword in Atella was of such difference from when return was made from Capua. Not only had they not gained weapons as intended, but loss of Lucius Caellius weighed mind. Glaber had indeed struck heavy blow upon them in single deception. No cheers rose as the four gladiators and Mira entered the temple and mood grew even more somber as Spartacus told of what had transpired.

Agron did not remain to hear of the failure. He was feeling strain of the fight they had engaged in – while of short duration it had been against men of great skill – and he only wanted to find Nasir and offer comfort to his heart of his safety. The Syrian’s insistence upon accompanying them to Atella before they had set to path had disturbed Agron deeply. That concerns of betrayal had been proven founded was a thing discussed between the three leaders at length in hushed tones during return journey.

It had yet to be determined if they should question Nasir as to how he held such certainty that Glaber would choose revenge. Agron had not been convinced of his heart’s prediction being of anything other than his acute skill in observation yet Crixus and Spartacus held suspicion of deeper power being involved.

Nasir had not been within entry of temple and so Agron assumed the Syrian to have retired to bed as he normally did to gain time of solitude. He was not disappointed as he pulled aside curtain of privacy and set eyes upon darkened skin of Nasir’s back as the smaller man lay stretched out upon stomach across the length of their pallet. Breathing was relaxed and even yet this alone was not indicative of the Syrian being in state of sleep. The former body slave, while forever in motion throughout day’s activities would become still as death once removed from feet. The only movement made by the smaller man while taking rest would occur when harsh memory took shape in dreams and would force Nasir to tremble and pull away from the gladiator’s body. Such occurrence had been decreasing in regularity to Agron’s relief yet there were still nights where they were both forced awake by dark thoughts.

Agron moved through task of removing cloak and pieces of armor smoothly, not making attempt to quiet sound greatly as others may for he knew how easily Nasir woke to commotion. When he stood in his subligaria alone, he moved to sit upon cloths at Nasir’s side, allowing his thigh and hip to come in contact with heated flesh of his heart’s body. He reached out and rested his hand upon smooth skin of Nasir’s lower back, noticing that bandage was absent and he felt a rush of relief knowing that wound had now healed enough to be laid upon absent coverings. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Nasir’s shoulder, breathing in calming scent of the man.

Nasir turned his head so he could look over his shoulder at the German, lifting up enough to push his unrestrained hair from his face. Agron moved his hand from place upon back to assume task, combing fingers through silky strands to move it over far shoulder. Once skin was exposed, he leaned forward again and pressed lips to skin of neck and teased sensitive skin with tongue and teeth. Nasir inhaled quickly and his body tensed in response to pleasant stimulation. He made motion to roll to his back but Agron relaxed his weight slightly, bringing much of his chest into contact with Nasir’s back. It was not enough to strain breath of the smaller body beneath him or even enough to keep the Syrian in place. It was a request to allow touch to calm him before coming to terms with failure of the day.

Nasir understood as much, his body releasing tension of movement and his breath evening out in relaxation.

Agron continued to hold his poise over the Syrian, taking in the feel of the warm body beneath him and the feel of skin upon his lips and tongue while the man’s scent was taken in with each breath. Each moment passed was another moment shared with the one who held his heart and fuck the gods who would ever make attempt to pry them apart. It was this that allowed the German to find calm and dismiss frustration of loss suffered. Once his mind was sound once more, Agron pulled away slowly to again sit upright at Nasir’s side and the Syrian turned onto his side as he had earlier intended and looked up to Agron, his gaze curious but steady.

“Prediction proved accurate, Nasir,” the German spoke. His voice reflected his remaining frustration, though it was much ebbed by his heart’s calm presence. “Glaber did not honor fucking trade, sacrificing wife and child at opportunity to claim Spartacus’ life. Ashur was there as well with other warriors of similar depravity. Lucius was struck down in covering retreat.” Dark eyes widened slightly at final revelation and news of fallen friend.

“He will be sorely missed by many,” Nasir responded in sullen tone. “Were any other injuries inflicted?” he moved on in learning of what had occurred. The Syrian would mourn the death once there was no more to be spoken of.

“No, Lucius’ sacrifice saw us safely from attack.”

Nasir rose to rest weight upon elbow and reached for Agron’s face with his other hand. Agron awaited touch to be made upon his cheek before he covered Nasir’s hand with his own. “And Lucius will be honored for such choice. We will mourn him as we have mourned those before lost to Rome’s blade, but we shall move forward with memory. As I have done for Chadara and as you have for your brother.”

It was with sudden clarity that Agron understood why Lucius’ death had weighed so heavily upon heart: it had reminded him of Duro’s sacrifice so that Agron would survive.

Yet he also saw difference between memory of his brother’s death now as to that of weeks ago: wound caused by pain of loss felt as though freshly healed scar, ache growing distant in wake of pleasant memory of life shared growing together.

He was accepting his brother’s passing as life returned to limbs with aid of Nasir’s touch and heart.

Heart beat with strong emotions and Agron leaned forward to rest his forehead upon Nasir’s.

“Truly, no man has held such fortune as I in knowing your heart.” As close as they were, Agron watched dark skin flush at such claim and he smiled at the Syrian’s humility. He could understand reaction though as Nasir held no knowledge of how easily he had brought revelation of great import to Agron and so such compliment appeared unexpected.

“Then you should ensure that such fortune is never removed from your side.”

“Never shall that be of desire.”

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was not only the longest chapter, but also contained the first sex scene I have written. Quite an accomplishment for someone whose been writing upwards of 10 years and I'm really happy that it went to these guys in this fic. And as a little extra, I will give you guys the certainty that the next chapter will be posted on June 11th, my birthday and what better way to celebrate than to share the next chapter for others' enjoyment.  
> Thank you again for reading and I hope to hear from you!  
> Until next time,  
> Kira Dattei


	9. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tests are presented on many fronts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Chapter Word Count: 7,082 (seems much more reasonable number after the last chapter)  
> Beta: Akinasky  
> A/N: And as promised, here is the next chapter! Gratitude for your continued reading and hope you enjoy the chapter for one of my favorite episodes, certainly my favorite of Vengeance.

** Chapter 9: Monsters **

When told to take shift of guard duty, Nasir had accepted with relief. It was the first time he had been given task as one able with sword and gave encouragement that he would no longer remain behind for missions as previously occurred. He knew there stood nothing to prove, yet when Spartacus gave task he had felt as though test lay within assignment.

Now, many hours into shift – nearly to time when he would be replaced – he wondered if perceived test had been in sharing task with Lugo. Donar was on guard as well yet was often moving about perimeter to leave the other two alone upon wall and Lugo used such opportunity to rest instead of honoring duty given.

Upon their first meeting, the burly German had greeted Nasir with open affection which had not faded in the time since arrival to temple, yet such affection lasted only to point where Nasir would take up actions suited for warriors. Such was greeted with boisterous laugh and insults spoken in common tongue as well as that of Germania – Agron refused to reveal meaning to words yet protective fury was forever recognized when he would form response to his kin – as Nasir completed task given with his usual precision.

It was no different now as the man gave teasing response when Nasir’s temper brought him to give command for the warrior to return to task. Taking in deep breath to calm rising fury of being dismissed so by Lugo, he accepted the man’s idle manner for they were about to be relieved and he could finish shift with Donar patrolling perimeter.

Crouching down to give brief rest to his legs – having endured training much of the day with other tasks arising as they normally did for him to see to as he yet stood as one to track supplies and so had not taken any rest before being given duty upon wall – he looked over camp then up the mountain towering above for signal of threat.

It was in this motion that he felt grip upon belt just before he was pulled from the wall. Before responsive strike could be delivered he was pushed flat upon ground and a hand pressed over his mouth. He was about to position his body to throw the attacker from him as he had been trained when he heard familiar voice. “Nasir, be still,” Crixus gave command in terse whisper and Nasir was too greatly shocked to do naught but listen and the Gaul allowed him to sit as same order was given to Lugo. The Syrian watched as three men dressed as Roman soldier scaled wall to infiltrate rebel camp.

Nasir stood and withheld angry response at knowing with certainty how he had been correct in that there would be test and he had failed.

Moments passed before cry of warning was given and fighting began, yet ended quickly as deception was revealed.

Steps approached from behind and Nasir turned to see Donar walking toward him as he rubbed back of head, revealing how greater force had been used to overtake him. The gladiator looked between Nasir and Lugo and breathed out a frustrated “Fuck!” He walked past the other two toward temple entrance, but gave pause and looked back to Nasir, glancing swiftly to the yet baffled Lugo. Donar had become another friend to Nasir through his close friendship with Agron and knew how the Syrian was treated by Lugo. “Failure began with me. Do not allow him to accuse otherwise.”

Nasir did not give response, instead walked past the gladiator and within temple walls and came to steps where he struggled to listen to Spartacus give instruction for beginning the day, which would be long and difficult in face of night’s failure.

As crowd parted to prepare for day, Nasir allowed bustling movement to conceal him. A talent he had always held skill in, he could use stature to nearly vanish in any crowd regardless of his exotic appearance. In crowd of such diversity, task was accomplished with even greater ease. Reason for doing so now kept him from having to face Agron and give explanation of how he had been overtaken. The German held such faith in his growing skill with both blade and gifts that he had been even more pleased than Nasir to learn of his assignment to guard.

Yet Nasir had failed.

Test had been presented – as suspected – and Nasir had fucking failed!

He stood better than this. He had survived capture and enslavement to Rome while yet young child. He had learned responsibility of house slave as young boy when most were yet struggling to adapt to such life. He had become body slave to man of position and wealth at his fifteenth year. He had earned respect of all other house slaves regardless of age. He had taken up sword for cause most worthy and had been trained by those of greatest skill in the ways of a warrior. He had survived grievous injury of being stabbed and burned in manner reflecting gladiators who trained him in their ways.

Such success and yet he could not succeed in single night of fucking guard duty?

In his growing rage, he had moved to room he shared with Agron, pushing aside cloth with such force it was nearly pulled from wall. He sighed in relief upon seeing Agron was not there – it appeared as though he had not taken rest upon their pallet that night – and he used solitude presented to gather his thoughts and make attempt to calm his fury. If he was calm he could face day’s task absent desire to send Lugo to the afterlife for giving opportunity for Nasir to be overtaken with ease.

He could at least take comfort in knowledge that his gifts had not necessarily failed him: Spartacus and Crixus were greatly accustomed to his company and so held talent in not revealing unspoken words by mistake. Warning could have been given to Gannicus that ensured he did not reveal approach either though he was another Nasir rarely heard unspoken words of.

Much of his anger passed with that thought for it took some pressure of what stands a personal failing from mind, and he left room and made for temple entrance. In time of solitude, sun had risen and many others had already gathered and raised voices echoed down halls of temple. He descended temple steps on edge of crowd to keep from notice for some time longer, wishing to gain bearings of argument before taking risk of being drawn in.

It was then that Agron found him, the man coming up to his side as the Syrian moved into crowd. It was obvious within an instant they both held strong emotions for events: Agron did not reach for him and he did not feel displeasure at such dismissal. “Spartacus told me how they breached wall. Were you injured in fall?”

Agron was forever to be relied upon for first thoughts to be of Nasir’s safety, yet such question only served to increase the Syrian’s frustration. “It was temple wall not fucking cliff,” Nasir responded in quiet fury. Agron appeared about to give response but stopped words short of finding voice. Reminding self that it was not the German who caused him anger, nor deserved to be victim of it, he took calming breath, closing his eyes for but a moment before returning gaze upon Agron. “Apologies for speaking in such manner.” While genuine in words, they were yet terse and Agron simply nodded acceptance in reply.

Nasir prepared to speak again when volume through courtyard increased – words spoken so mostly in language of Germania – and Agron turned attention to ensuring argument did not come to blows between his kin. Others followed rising temper and soon all were engaged in contest of accusation in placing fault. The Syrian refused to be drawn in, making attempt to maintain his valued control, though task was difficult, as he knew from dark looks from Lugo that blame was being placed upon him in language he could not defend against for lack of understanding.

As Spartacus gave words of sense toward standing as united front against the Romans, Nasir knew the man to be correct. It was a thing he had known from the moment he had been taken to the mines by his dominus and why he had worked so diligently to see all house slaves he served with work as one to always see their master pleased: a people united were of strength that could succeed.

The man bearing brunt of Nasir’s anger apparently did not hold similar understanding. “Give Lugo warrior to share watch, not little man with little balls,” Lugo demanded of their leader.

Fuck control, Nasir would prove his skill with blade through example of piercing the fool’s stomach!

Moving quickly to close distance between he and Lugo – never mind that Agron stood in way and restrained him from reaching target – he responded with all anger he had thought banished. “My balls did not allow breach!” Catching glimpse of Agron’s expression from edge of gaze – for the man kept arm braced across Nasir’s shoulder as he yet pressed toward Lugo – Nasir saw tolerance and frustration upon face of his heart and knew he was of cause. Such thought allowed him to regain some control for continuing defense against accusation with revelation of German’s fault. “Your eyes were closed in pursuit of dreams.”

Agron now appeared as furious as Nasir had been and turned such fury on Lugo, and was not alone as Spartacus spoke, “You fell to slumber?” Such question confused Nasir as he had believed them knowing so to determine time of attack.

Agron’s voice kept Nasir from placing too much focus upon errant thought. “And you blame Nasir, you lazy shit.” Belief that resolution could be found was brief as Crixus’ voice then followed Agron’s.

“Turn effort from defending your boy and look upon your own failings!”

Nasir was uncertain of what caused him greater anger: Crixus’ claim that he would not take his portion of blame deserved and relied upon Agron to keep him clear of such or being diminished to standing again as another’s property. No matter, for either alone had him following Agron toward Crixus.

“Then let us relive the moment and see different fucking result!” Agron challenged before Spartacus intervened again by barring Crixus’ path with extended arm.

Agron accepted command with belligerent growl and turned away to attempt to calm himself with Nasir stepping away as well with final dark look to Crixus, who did not miss such.

Details for day’s progression and training was given and Nasir found further anger at hearing he would not join in training but would return to wall with Lugo. Turning toward the burly German, he moved to approach – if only to ensure the German did not step foot within range of fist – when Agron’s hand pressed to his cheek firmly and lifted chin so he would look into green eyes. Despite gesture familiar as intimate touch between them, it was eyes of a leader Nasir met gaze with.

Agron held his other hand before Nasir’s face in point of warning to ensure his attention was present upon the gladiator. “Keep to your duty. I heard no instruction to run ally through.” Tone matched gaze and it was that of the second in command to Spartacus and Nasir sighed before pulling away and turning toward ladder to scale wall.

He had set mind upon task, eyes and ears remaining focused upon surroundings outside temple walls, ensuring there was much distance between him and Lugo. Little time passed when sound of steps upon wooden beams approaching gained his attention and he turned to see Spartacus approach with Crixus. Nasir breathed a quick sigh and ensured faded anger did not again rise, though it was difficult as he made assumption at to what would be said.

“Nasir, may we break words for a moment?” Spartacus requested. The man, as always, gave him choice. He nodded permission and awaited words silently. “You feel sting of failure as all here do, yet I would ask a thing of you that I cannot request of any other.”

“What do you request?” Nasir asked, though as he stood now he was as likely to decline another task, for he did not feel as though he could succeed with mind so flustered.

“I ask that you release grasp of anger and be calm mind I rely upon. There stand enough men here ready to submit to violence and I would not see you stand among them.”

Nasir turned to look at Spartacus, their eyes on even level from the Syrian’s seated position upon wall with the Thracian standing upon wooden planks that ran along length of wall. For reason even Nasir could not give explanation for, request allowed him to discover path in regaining control over his emotions and clarity was again found which allowed his anger to fade immediately by some great degree.

Though laying eyes upon Crixus reminded him that not all his fury stood beyond reason. Making decision to take opportunity while placed before him, he voiced response, “I will do all I can to ensure your trust is not misplaced.” Spartacus let out a breath of relief but Nasir continued. “But know that I will not tolerate words that speak of my being owned by another. I hold no expectation of Agron’s protection and I am certainly not ‘his boy’.” He finished with another furious gaze to Crixus who appeared at loss in manner of reply.

The Gaul’s uncertainty likely led him to his challenging words, “You believe to be of skill enough to cause me regret?” Spartacus was about to speak again but Nasir letting out short laugh brought him pause.

“I held no fear of you when you called for my death. Why should I allow such to take hold now? Insult me again in such manner and know that apology will be given in earnest before you defeat me.” He was no fool and did not believe he would conquer the Undefeated Gaul, yet he knew of how tenacity could be greater victory in eyes of those trained in honor as Crixus was. Even now the former Champion appeared to understand how such fight would progress and smirked at Nasir.

“I am tempted to voice such if only to bear witness to wild dog’s bite,” he responded and that alone was an acceptance of Nasir’s demand of him. He would not get apology but would never again be called such by Crixus.

“We will use lesson of last night to guide your training with your abilities,” Spartacus brought attention back to focus. “We will explore other weapons as well as your skill with sword has grown enough to do so.” Nasir nodded, finally feeling as though some good came from night’s failure. The two men bid him a good day and returned to their own task of training others against enemy’s entry of temple.

At some time soon after Spartacus and Crixus parted company with him, Nasir was joined by Gannicus and the two sat and conversed while keeping guard, finally able to find ease in breaking words.

* * *

For how day had begun – rife with bitter disappointment for many – it had become one to be forever remembered by Nasir. Through years in service to his dominus, he had attended many parties, though had always been made to display himself as treasured property to be bartered over for profit. Such memories had proved difficult to move beyond when wine had first begun to flow, yet Agron’s steady presence at his side and hands always upon him had given him comfort needed. He soon put days of taking Roman cock for entertainment to rest and was able to enjoy company of those he chose to stand with.

Mira and Naevia provided welcome distraction as well, for they were familiar with what would have been asked of him in his previous position and knew how to guide conversation so as to aid the Syrian in moving beyond past. He would remember to offer gratitude to them once celebration ended.

When Spartacus had turned to competition with intent of settling mounting grievances between rebels – beginning by pairing Nasir with the German he had studiously avoided through day despite shared tasks – the Syrian at last felt release of lingering anger and tension which had plagued mind all day. Even loss of challenge against Donar and Nemetes had only discouraged mood for but a brief time. How could he find fault with loss to a gladiator and experienced warrior when he still stood so new to ways of battle? Agron’s advice given just after match for how to improve skills would not be put to waste in future training and fighting.

Though his own peace found with Lugo held no comparison to Agron and Crixus at last laying aside all between them to become united as leaders of rebellion. With defeat delivered them by Oenomaus and Gannicus, the two men and the ones they held to heart found wine and place to converse over how victory could be found when again matched against such skill. Nasir and Naevia engaged in their own conversation while held close by their companions, allowing the two gladiators to find camaraderie in whatever manner suited them best. Once there was no dissent guiding their words, they appeared to find that there was not great difference between them, as had already been realized by those who knew their ways with intimacy.

Day however had been long and exhausting and Crixus and Naevia soon sought privacy for the night. Nasir and Agron remained near low burning fire, the Syrian sitting with back resting along Agron’s chest with long legs extended on either side of his body. Such position kept chill of approaching night from biting into Nasir, cold always bringing him great discomfort with haste because of his homeland bearing much warmer climes. Position also allowed both men to enjoy company deprived them through previous night and day’s duties.

Agron brushed his lips along length of sensitive neck, bringing Nasir’s breath to shivers of pleasure. Agron had learned quickly of how to best bring the Syrian pleasure over the past days, though he appeared to take certain pleasure of his own by teasing skin once covered by thick collar. One hand was running through soft strands of ebony hair in motion most soothing while the other was curled about Nasir’s waist to hold the gradually muscling body against him. Desire between them – always present beneath surface of interaction – had grown with haste from the moment they sat down at each other’s side and Nasir need not feel hardening cock pressing into lower back to know how near Agron was to voicing need.

While opportunity for them to lie together had been sparse since their first coupling, each one had held a manner of familiarity and there was an ease to finding rhythm between them, a thing which brought untold comfort to Nasir. The Syrian had held great concern over engaging in sexual acts with Agron for many reasons. He had felt anxious over his ability to satisfy the gladiator, for while he knew how to bring men pleasure, he also knew Agron held vehemence toward the path of his life as slave that he would not use such learned skills with the man. Absent such skill, he did not know what pleasure would be found with his body. He learned in their first coupling how wrong he had been to believe so, for Agron instructed him in how the German’s desire was for Nasir and not his body. When Nasir found pleasure, Agron found it as well, fact well proven in how the German always ensured the smaller man reached completion before finding his own as though it held no matter until then.

After years of his body being used for pleasure of others alone, Nasir at last understood how it could come to mean so much between two people. The deep relationship between him and the man he held to heart had only grown in depth with this development.

“Do you truly allow mind to wander as my thoughts are upon you alone?” Agron’s deep voice questioned into his ear, always aware of when Nasir’s thoughts were taken with anything but his surroundings. He spoke with humor yet it was how he ensured Nasir was not about to be forced to endure pained memory as was like to occur regardless of how often they lay together. That they were now positioned so Nasir could not see Agron only increased likelihood of such concern finding realization.

Nasir turned his head enough to press his lips to Agron’s temple soothingly. “Thoughts are not removed from you.” The Syrian inhaled deeply as the German responded with a strong tease of teeth against sensitive neck and his own body began to stir at such stimulation. “I would feel you within me this night,” he managed to whisper against the skin of Agron’s ear and the strong arm about him tightened at such request for Nasir had not before asked the German so.

“I bear not the strength to deny such request asked by one who holds my heart.” He turned to join lips with Nasir’s in intimate caress of tongue and breath, bringing desire to even greater height. The Syrian lost all sense to passion of kiss, his breath coming in labored gasps in the short breaks of contact as their position kept them from delving too deeply into the other’s mouth.

It was only when Agron’s hand pushed beneath the layers of cloth covering Nasir’s chest to take firm hold of the skin of his chest that the Syrian was able to recall their place barely within walls of temple. Any rebel had to but turn to witness intimacy between the two men and so Nasir pulled from the kiss, Agron following the motion briefly before seeming to regain his sense of forever heeding Nasir’s desires. “Our bed holds greater comfort than stone floor in view of all,” he explained retreat in roughened voice, a tone known only by Agron for the pleasure which brought it out of the smaller man.

The German’s eyes passed over their surroundings and gave heavy sigh of acceptance that if he desired to see Nasir’s request to completion they would have to move to privacy of room. While many gladiators – and some freed men – held no concern over privacy while engaging in sex, Nasir was one who held value in privacy of precious moments between them. Agron held no preference yet he did find relief in knowing that he alone bore witness to the Syrian in throes of passion.

Nasir gave him a final gentle kiss before pulling from grip and rising to his feet with Agron following motion immediately. Grabbing their weapons from where they had been set aside, they walked through narrow halls of the temple, Agron’s hand coming to rest upon Nasir’s shoulder so as to remain in contact.

Once cloth providing privacy to their chambers fell closed behind them, Nasir returned his gladius to its place at side of bedroll as Agron placed his own weapon and sheath against wall. Once his body straightened again, Nasir approached him and brought his lips to Agron’s in a passionate kiss as his arms encircled the German’s shoulders to bring his body in full contact.

Agron released a low growl of pleasure with the Syrian’s initiative and display of desire. The smaller man had in previous couplings followed lead of Agron but appeared to now stand ready to pursue own pleasure and guide their lovemaking.

Agron’s arms wrapped tightly about Nasir’s waist and lifted him from the floor to press his body harder against the Syrian, as was of norm for him to do if they were not already upon bed when passion rose between them. While Agron usually felt no desire to handle the smaller man in such diminutive manner – especially with the Syrian’s tendency toward anger when treated in way he did not approve – he found great pleasure in how he could bring them together with such ease.

Hardened flesh pressing into Nasir’s body caused him to gasp in anticipation, breaking contact of lips and dark eyes opened to look down slightly to hold gaze with Agron’s green ones. With the entirety of Nasir’s chest pressed into the gladiator, Agron was sure to feel release of all tension from the compact body as Nasir entrusted himself to his heart, leaning his forehead to Agron’s in familiar touch.

“How long must I be made to wait for desire to be fulfilled?” Nasir questioned playfully, voice deepened with desire and whispering in regard for their intimacy. No other held experience of extent of the Syrian’s humor as Agron bore, a thing of great pride for the German – more so when not being made victim by it – as it stood another indication of difference between his place and that of all others in Nasir’s life.

“Your lips bring me to great distraction. How often must I prove incapable of ignoring pleasure you bring me?” the gladiator growled his response as he stepped forward to close remaining distance to their pallet then lowered the younger man in his grasp down with smooth control of movement. Nasir followed motion with ease until he sat upon thick blankets – his mind already set upon intention of how this night would reach completion – before using his grip about Agron’s neck to the taller man’s disadvantage.

Leaning his weight back from the solid body above him, Nasir’s grip was maintained so as to force Agron’s body to overbalance and the man fell forward. Reflexes brought his hands from the Syrian’s body to catch his weight upon the bedroll and a knee lifted to be placed upon the pallet as well to further ensure he did not crush the smaller body beneath him, the other foot remaining firmly planted upon the ground. Before voice could be given against Nasir’s action, the Syrian continued to move the larger man into position he desired for their coupling. He reached his right hand behind him to grasp Agron’s wrist firmly as the leg of the same side stretched out to curl about the knee of Agron’s leg yet upon the floor. His other foot curled close underneath him and pressed into edge of bedroll to lift his hips into Agron’s body, using grip upon the man’s limbs to keep him from catching his weight again. The German’s side made contact with the bedroll and then naturally followed momentum to roll onto his back with Nasir following to extend his leg over muscled thighs to rest upon lap, bringing the flesh of his ass to press into Agron’s hardened cock. Agron reacted with haste as hands took firm hold of Nasir’s lithe hips to keep him from moving in any manner as the German made obvious attempt to retain control over his body’s desire.

“Who must I confront for teaching you such technique of removing man from feet?” Agron questioned, his voice bearing evidence of strained control. It was apparent he was searching for delay to ensure he did not find completion with too great of haste.

Nasir’s lips lifted into grin of satisfaction, knowing he alone caused such reaction within this strong man. Agron was one who held great respect within rebellion as brutal warrior and second to Spartacus, yet he yielded command to Nasir absent hesitation as though he was given life to stand at the Syrian’s side.

Such gift of trust would never be put to waste or abused.

“Saxa gave instruction while Donar provided words of common tongue and body to practice upon,” tone of confidence within the Syrian’s voice could not be suppressed, though further darkening of lust within green eyes told Nasir of Agron’s attraction toward such tone. The larger man leaned forward and pressed their lips together as his hands moved from gripping Nasir’s hips and set to task of removing the man’s belt and layers of clothing concealing skin of his chest.

Once dark skin was revealed, large hands explored chest and back eagerly. Nasir had never lacked in muscle – his position as house and body slave did not remove necessity of strength – yet he had certainly not bore bulk of a warrior. Such was not necessarily truth now, as his arms and torso now rippled with his increased strength from training tirelessly with those of the sands. He would never bear bulk as Agron did – his stature did not suit such size – yet his compact form now concealed more than it ever had, a thing the German admittedly found most attractive. Just after the match against Donar and Nemetes, Agron had voiced with lecherous grin how he anticipated how Nasir would further develop now that he no longer appeared as wild dog barely nourished.

Nasir had shaken his head and given response of how he now held intention to aid Agron in finding better methods of giving compliment to his heart for the man held no skill in flattery.

As hands sought to touch every bit of skin upon his torso and hips rolled into him in motion reflective of joining to occur soon, Nasir’s hands set to task of removing the gladiator’s armor and subligaria – his fingers well-versed in handling of materials of greater difficulty in more dire circumstances – pushing all cloth but his own aside to expose hardened flesh he desired to feel within him. He again pressed his hips forward to brush his own cock against Agron’s to bring a satisfied moan from the man beneath him at such pressure. Hands dropped from Nasir’s back to press beneath cloth of his braccae and subligaria to grasp at his ass, fingers brushing tantalizingly at the opening soon to be breached. Agron was communicating in the only manner he now stood capable of that he was nearing end of his restraint against Nasir’s teasing motions.

Nasir was in similar state, so he removed his body from Agron’s lap with smooth motions, his hands pushing down the remaining layers of clothing from his body with haste as Agron pulled his already removed clothing and armor completely from him and tossed it to the floor. Once Nasir stood bare and Agron had settled back into his seated position, the German reached out and took hold of the Syrian’s hands, intertwining their fingers together as he pulled the smaller body back upon him to resume place in lap. He was giving control to Nasir – though there truly stood no such thing between them in any aspect of their relationship – absent hesitation or concern over what would occur from doing so.

Once weight was again settled in place across Agron’s thighs, the German released one of his hands to reach out for the flask of oil they kept at bedside for their couplings. Agron had secured many such oils after their first night together, declaring he would never enter Nasir absent something to ease passage and Nasir had accepted stipulation and allowed the man to go through and take from supplies what he wanted.

As moistened fingers entered him smoothly he knew he would never tease Agron for his protective nature coming forth in this matter. There was naught but pleasure at being entered with such care and Nasir’s heart always beat with greater intensity when first breach was made. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Agron’s as the fingers worked within him to ensure he was loosened to Agron’s satisfaction.

Pleasure was yet a new experience for Nasir. He had been taking cock since time his dominus deemed him old enough to do so and there was no satisfaction to be found in such forced act. He had learned control over his own body enough to display what was desired of him yet it never held any truth.

He had never before lost himself to passion and pleasure before lying with Agron.

That was precisely what he experienced now: passion too great for him to maintain control over thoughts and actions of his body. His hips rolled against fingers moving within him for purpose of giving chase to pleasure. His lips moved against Agron’s in attempt to simply experience more of the man’s taste. His hands moved across muscles of solid chest and back for knowledge that Agron greatly enjoyed feel of Nasir’s hands upon him seeking out skin sensitive to pleasure.

Passion did not fade as Agron removed his fingers and his hands took hold of Nasir’s hips to position the smaller body above his cock. Nasir reached behind him and ensured Agron’s hardened flesh was in line with his opening and lowered his body to accept the entry of Agron into him. Nasir took in deep breaths to control his body’s reaction to penetration. Agron’s girth was of equal proportion to his towering height and always pressed Nasir’s tolerance of pain to brink, regardless of preparation and so the Syrian had to keep from clamping muscles down upon entry. Such reaction would bring pain he wished never to experience while lying with the man who held his heart. Once he was pressed fully against Agron’s body, the gladiator deep within him as desired, he breathed heavy sigh of content for reaching such intimate state.

Nasir gave but brief pause before he began moving against the man beneath him, using his legs and hips to control motion, lifting to brink of penetration then lowering quickly to take hardened flesh back into him with growing intensity. Agron groaned his pleasure in being guided so in their joining, the pace alone bringing as much pleasure as how Nasir worked the muscles surrounding Agron’s cock with precision to give satisfaction.

The Syrian knew he would not endure much longer for his motions brought Agron’s flesh against nerves within him that brought rush of euphoria with every thrust. Wishing to prolong joining, Nasir slowed his movements to a gentle rolling of hips. As Agron growled his frustration at such pace, Nasir took opportunity to recover bearings by again taking in deep breaths. He leaned forward, resting forehead against Agron’s as flame of passion within him subsided slowly. Agron angled his head to touch his lips to the Syrian’s as his hips lifted in teasing thrust, giving display of just how greatly he was restraining himself from continuing fevered pace toward completion. Nasir’s lips lifted into a sly grin as he squeezed the tight passage of his entrance surrounding Agron’s cock to the point where Agron growled out a short curse as his hands rose to take firm grasp of both sides of Nasir’s face. The action was obviously so he did not alter their position and chase his desire against Nasir’s guidance.

Smile softened to express his fondness for Agron’s continued determination to see Nasir satisfied before pursuing his own pleasure. He felt warmth of emotion spread through his chest at knowing the level of importance Agron held him. Warmth spread further with instant knowledge that he held Agron in same estimation.

No longer seeing point of delaying exchange of intimacy, Nasir’s arms wrapped securely about Agron’s shoulders and he used grip to resume rising from cock within him and dropping back down upon it. He usually did not favor such pace or force in sex, yet day’s myriad of events and emotions had him needing more than what they had exchanged to this point. Agron appeared to know – as he always did – of Nasir’s need and kept his hands at the Syrian’s face as the man chased his completion.

Release was found mere moments later and Nasir hissed through his pleasure then pressed his lips to Agron’s with all remaining vigor. Once breath slowed and his heart’s beat no longer raced, he readied to roll onto his back so Agron could reach his own peak when he felt the flesh yet within him begin to soften as spilled seed dripped from his opening. Agron had found his own release with Nasir, a first occurrence as the man held great stamina, which would normally outlast the younger man. Either they both had been filled with desperation or they were truly settling into familiarity with each other.

Neither possibility was objectionable to Nasir as his body relaxed further into Agron’s solid chest, warmth from the man’s body soothing him into deep comfort. Agron’s hands ran into his long hair, the motion calming him with greater haste and dislodging the cord that restrained his hair so shorter strands fell about his face.

Feeling tickle of hair against cheek brought a soft laugh from Nasir. “Humor is so quick to be found?” Agron questioned him, voice deep with the man’s own relaxation.

“Distraction must have indeed been great for hair to remain secured until after release has been attained.” Band keeping hair tied back was usually the first thing to be removed from the Syrian as Agron held as great of favor in touching his hair as he did of teasing neck with mouth.

Agron chuckled lazily in reply as he pressed a brief kiss to Nasir’s temple before shifting position – removing his softened flesh from leaking entrance with care – so his back rested upon pillows, allowing the smaller body to relax against him as much as desired as he found his own rest. Fingers continued to brush through hair, bringing comfort in motion of working out small knots that had formed through vigorous day and activities.

Sleep had barely claimed Nasir when his attention was gained by Agron’s arms tightening about him and moving him to the side and covering his body under blanket with haste. He was about to question action – his mind not recovering as quickly as it normally would – when Crixus’ voice called through the curtain separating them from view of others.

“Romans approach the temple,” the man informed them, apparently having heard Agron’s movement and respecting their privacy as few others would.

“How do their numbers stand?” Agron questioned as he searched through their discarded clothing for his subligaria and armor.

“We stand greatly outnumbered by Glaber’s legion,” Crixus’ response was given with some hesitation, a thing unfamiliar to the Undefeated Gaul’s voice.

Agron expelled a sound of derision, “Day’s training shall be put to fucking test. We will ready for battle and be within temple entrance presently.”

Crixus’ departing footsteps sounded and Nasir rose from where he had remained beneath covers while Agron moved about and sought out his own clothing. As he dressed quickly, he came to realize that this would truly stand as test of his strength. The last time he had faced against Roman soldiers, he had nearly lost life. He had been fortunate for Naevia’s suggestion of branding wound and Spartacus’ determination not to see him dead that day. Such fortune was not likely to be found again should he bear injury in the conflict to follow.

Had he truly made progress enough to stand victorious against countless soldiers? All gladiators training him proclaimed of his growing skill, including Oenomaus, Spartacus, Donar, and Agron. Even Crixus had made passing comment days prior that it was no longer easy task to force the Syrian to ground. Yet such progress had been defeated in friendly contest mere hours previous. Battle approaching them was not such competition, but fight ending in death. He was to fight men who sought his death and he would have need to see his opponents falter so as to keep from the afterlife.

His mind again reminded him of his failure the last time battle of such manner was fought and he paused in pulling his shirt over his chest, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of his brand.

Nasir was not aware of his pause until hands rough with callous covered his own to touch the skin of wound that had nearly claimed his life. Agron stepped forward, the taller man’s body coming in contact with the length of Nasir’s side and the Syrian allowed his weight to rest against that of his heart. Agron’s other arm came across his back to grasp his hip in secure embrace as Nasir’s head rested upon firm chest, finding great comfort in the calm beating of the man’s heart.

“I do not wish to be parted from your side,” Nasir admitted in soft voice. His place in defending the temple was among rear guard remaining within protection of temple walls while Agron was to stand at Spartacus’ side upon front line of assault. He had been infuriated when Spartacus had revealed such position earlier that day, not wishing to be made to be left behind yet again, but had accepted the Thracian’s superior knowledge of his capabilities absent contestation.

He only saw such as reason to improve skills even more so as to stand at Agron’s side as his equal in use of weapon as well as in all else.

“Remove such distraction from mind or fall victim to Roman shits,” Agron gave reprimand yet Nasir was certain the German held similar hesitation of parting upon field of battle for he could not ensure safety of his heart.

“Promise me we will lay eyes upon each other once battle is finished.”

Agron’s hands cupped either side of Nasir’s face and turned dark eyes toward him. Nasir watched emotions flow through green eyes, shift too quick to determine depth of each. The man gave expression to so much more while with Nasir, just as the Syrian revealed more of himself to Agron.

He could not imagine finding another in his remaining days which could hold comparison to Agron.

“Swear to me you will hold concern only for self and your surrounds and I will return to your side.” Confidence had been found again in Agron’s response, as though he knew he would survive if Nasir did.

Agron’s confidence brought Nasir’s own to rise.

Nasir leaned forward to place kiss upon Agron’s lips, contact remaining brief. “We will not fall this day so there stands no need for words bearing implication otherwise.”

Romans may not be defeated this night, yet rebellion would not fall to death either. They held too much to lose now and would fight to protect lives of such value.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted there to be two sex scenes in this fic, knew that the first one wasn't going to be until the chapter for Balance and so this one ended up being the chapter since I don't see one happening while they are on Vesuvius. To me, the sexual aspect of the relationship between Agron and Nasir is as vital as any other part because of Nasir growing up a slave so I wanted to show development there within this fic. It seemed easier to write this time around :)  
> So only one more chapter to go in this story then it is complete. Kind of a weird feeling about that...  
> I look forward to hearing from you and see you next time.


	10. Wrath of the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closure is found as rebellion takes first steps toward becoming an army...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Words Unspoken  
> Chapter Word Count: 7,045  
> Beta: Thank you Akinasky for all your hard work and help in seeing this fic to completion. Now to keep it going toward completion of the series :)  
> A/N: Not really anything to say before the chapter. See you after. Enjoy!

** Chapter 10: Wrath of the Gods **

 

Nasir was certain he would not last much longer. Countless days passed upon crest of Vesuvius’ peak had drained him in ways he had never before experienced and so he had no knowledge in how to appropriately manage dire situation.

Battle against Romans had claimed life of medicus and Nasir now stood as most knowledgeable in healing and the first man he had treated had been Oenomaus in the mending of skin over lost eye. Others received his treatment as well but the former Doctore had required much attention from his inexperienced hands.

He also retained count of supplies, knowledge that grew more disheartening with each day as food was consumed absent means of replenishing loss.

Most recently, much of his time was being taken with standing guard along single trail, his gifts preventing breach of enemy many times as they pressed often to keep rebels forever alert to drain strength with greater haste. Nasir had taken up responsibility of position, even going further by taking decision of whom to assign which post from Spartacus and they all now reported to him first and it was his task to determine what news was to be taken to rebel leader. The Thracian had at first held hesitation in allowing such integral task to be taken on by any other, yet he trusted Nasir deeply and allowed him opportunity. Now that Spartacus stood pleased with his handling of task, Nasir found desire that he had waited until he had settled other responsibilities upon others as he now never held moment to rest unless it be by collapse from exhaustion.

It had also given cause for many days to pass since he had spoken at length with Agron, a thing bringing unrest as well for he had nobody he would entrust revealing feelings of weakness to.

Such was of even greater truth now that Mira had been struck down.

Nemetes had grown restless and fearful and Nasir’s friend lost life for his foolish choice. At least when Chadara had chosen ill path she alone had found punishment for such. The German had made choice and he remained to complain further of their dire standings as Mira lay dead.

This world seemed forever inclined to deny life to those most worthy.

Nasir paused in his movement and realized he had not been taking count of pouches of dried meats – so lost in thought he was – and now had to begin task anew.

“Fuck!” he hissed as he stood from his kneeled position, his head striking the thick canvas of the tent and he breathed another curse as his hair caught enough to pull painfully. Mira had been keeping count of supplies over the past few days to ease Nasir’s responsibility as he adapted to organization of guard and so he now had to regain bearings so as to provide knowledge if needed.

Mira did not need to die. She should not have died. He could have made difference in fight that had claimed her, yet he had again been left behind. He had been administering treatment to Oenomaus when the group had departed to aid the Germans but he could have still been taken along. Had he not given proof that he could stand against the Romans now? Had his continued training – for training did not cease in their predicament but instead intensified – not given display of his skill adapting to now holding experience of fighting battle? Did he not continue to offer example of his value to rebellion or was he simply not enough to be entrusted with fight unless they all had to raise sword?

Mira had been trusted with as much. She had been trusted to stand at Spartacus’ side. Why could Nasir not be given the same trust to stand at Agron’s?

Sound of movement behind him brought Nasir’s hand to grasp knife at his hip tightly, ready to draw weapon in defense. He no longer hesitated in reaction to unknown being to draw weapon as he held in beginning of his time bearing such option. He relaxed his grip though his body remained tense when he heard voice of Gannicus call his name. He had grown familiar with the Celt over time upon mountain for time shared at Oenomaus’ side and was not surprised that he had been sought out now that tensions had again abated.

Expectation did not however mean company was welcome and Nasir desired solitude

“I have not finished taking count. I will report to Spartacus when ready,” Nasir spoke in even tones to discourage thought that he held any interest in participating in meaningless breaking of words.

“Then I am fortunate to not be seeking such knowledge,” Gannicus responded and Nasir was confused at such serious tone coming from a man of normally jovial temperament.

“Then reveal intent with haste so that I may return to task before taking evening post.” Nasir realized how harsh his words were and kneeled again with a deep breath to calm his mind and rage. It was not so much a loss of control as it was rise of authoritative manner he utilized often as body slave when there had been much in need of completion.

He would not allow grief to give rise to habits of Tiberius.

“I seek only certainty that loss does not inhibit ability of one bearing much responsibility. As I bear so little I have leisure of seeking out such answers.”

Nasir nearly believed words spoken, yet errant thought revealed truth.

“Spartacus would stand as one concerned yet knows I would not give him honest answer so he sends you in his place.”

The Celt gave his usual wide grin in reply and Nasir realized belatedly how he may have revealed too much in his tempered claim. “Spartacus does hold concern and did request that I break words with you as we have shared company often. Do you hold such deep understanding of the man you claim prediction of his actions?” Nasir refused to face the former gladiator for hope that he could discourage continuation of conversation, pointless though he knew such endeavor to be. “Or does your knowledge be in more obscure skill?”

Nasir released disdainful breath as he focused upon satchels of food and resorted items for count to be taken. “You should not make attempt to speak in riddles. It does not suit you.”

“You hold preference to pulling thoughts from my mind?”

Nasir’s hand refused to grasp sack as he had intended. Had Gannicus truly discovered his gift by words broken between them over the past few weeks? No other in his life had realized truth of his talent and to have such experience was beyond Nasir’s knowledge of how to respond. Fear made him question Gannicus’ intent in putting truth to challenge. After all, there stood no reason for him to believe such impossible talent as truth.

“Do you believe words hold more sense with such accusation?” Nasir questioned though his voice did not remain as strong as he had intended.

“You forget I have travelled for many years and seen what other people hold belief in. I know of value Syrians place in oracles and I have even met ones truly gifted. None, however, hold contest with your talents or command over such skill.”

Nasir stood – mindful of curve of tent this time – and turned to face the man, giving pause in his words when he saw naught but sincerity upon expression of the Celt. He hesitated further as question rose within mind: why did he wish to deceive Gannicus so? He stood with rebellion even if he did not agree with purpose behind fight as others did. He would not betray them and had even accepted position of authority given for his great skill in battle.

Spartacus held trust in the man – as did Agron and Crixus – so was there truly reason to conceal gifts from him when he already knew of them? Habit of secrecy had dictated first choice, yet Nasir now believed it to be wrong path.

“You have met others of like skill?” It was neither confirmation nor denial of truth as Nasir found it yet difficult to admit to gift when the other knew of it already.

Gannicus gave another wide grin at revelation that he had been correct. “None who made such attempt to conceal ability when profit could be made for talent to commune with the gods.” The Syrian nearly scoffed at humored response; the man was never absent wit. Seeming to realize the young man would not respond to humor, Gannicus shook his head and released a sigh. “Though none bore fear of ability you appear to hold.”

“It is a thing as much a part of me as my origins of Assyria. It is not ability which I hold fear of but revelation to those who would abuse knowledge.”

“A thing you must be most familiar with from former position.”

Nasir ignored touch of memory’s rise within him and altered path of conversation with haste. “How did you make discovery? Only Spartacus, Crixus, and Agron know and would not give revelation to any.”

“The night guard was tested gave greatest hint, though suspicion was present already. Spartacus gave specific command to silence mind until wall was breached. Such was instruction given to gladiators often to remind them of strong minds bringing nothing into arena that may distract from victory.”

“Instruction was greatly unnecessary as thoughts of former Champions are rarely errant. Nearly all heard from you three is purposefully received.” Nasir directed his gaze to Gannicus with expression that spoke of his understanding that the Celt had begun their conversation with test of skills.

While not always apparently so, the freed gladiator was of a keen mind.

Understanding brought another smile to Gannicus’ face. “I held suspicion something set you apart from other freed slaves other than your pairing with Agron as they would refuse to hold discussion concerning you if I was present. Then you requested that I leave you with them before we departed for Atella and Spartacus altered plan once words were broken. Then Spartacus gave command that specified I ensure mind wanders not when you are to be overcome by surprise. Then there are moments in conversing with you in which words broken are much too insightful to be possible without intimate knowledge of my mind.”

If it were any other, Nasir held doubt that truth could have been reached through such series of events. Mira had spent much time with him and had never appeared to know of his gift. Chadara had spent much of his life as slave in his company and did not gain suspicion that he had served their master’s thoughts instead of his commands. So many had passed through his life and only Gannicus had realized truth.

Relief replaced fear as it became apparent to Nasir that the Celt knowing of his ability would be of benefit to him just as telling Spartacus and Crixus had been.

Noticing the Syrian’s relaxation, Gannicus reached out and grasped Nasir’s shoulder briefly. “Cause is of fortune to have you within it. Shall I bring comfort to our leader’s unease where you stand in accepting loss of friend?”

Nasir hesitated for a moment; honest answer was difficult to find. He had experienced similar conflict when Chadara had been killed for he knew not how to cope with such loss. To have friends suddenly gone from life was not experience he held and he had yet to discover how to accept occurrence with ease. That he was not the sort of man who held fast to negative events aided him greatly, yet he was not absent grief and bitterness to loss. Violence against Donar after Chadara fell and his short temper with Gannicus only moments previous stood as proof.

However…

“Ever since learning of Spartacus’ vengeance against Claudius Glaber I have struggled in understanding how one could desire life of another in exchange for those lost. Actions of the living are wasted on sake of the dead.” He took pause for calming breath as his mind raced with words he wished to say to convey message. “While I cannot envision taking such action myself, I now know of the pain that can lead to such need to spill another’s blood. When opportunity presents to see Mira’s death repaid, I shall do my part to see her death not be absent purpose.”

Gannicus reached out again to take hold of Nasir’s forearm, the gesture of brotherhood enough to put Nasir’s remaining hesitation at revealing such emotions to any other than Agron to rest. “Spartacus will stand relieved at such conviction.”

Satisfied with conversation’s end, the Celt turned and departed from the tent and Nasir returned to duty of inventory, now holding capability of completing task with his usual proficiency.

Once he finished gaining accurate accounting of supplies he moved on to next task: taking forward guard position of path leading down mountainside. He ensured his weapon was secured at his hip and grabbed a length of thick cloth to wrap about his head to delay touch of cold from affecting him. He had always held sensitivity to colder climes and he seemed incapable of regaining warmth with such constant exposure to biting wind.

He spoke briefly with the gladiator already on guard as bow and quiver of arrows was passed between them. It had been a decision Nasir had passed along quickly to have such advantageous weapon utilized at positions where swords were of a disadvantage. Roman soldiers did not carry them so it meant all enemies that had made attempt were killed before threat was truly present. Nasir had not been given much training with the bow because of strain it placed upon his wound, yet Lucius had ensured he had at least gone over technique with the Syrian and the first few times he had taken duty he had used many hours undisturbed to practice skill to adequacy. Once weapon traded hands and brief report was given, the gladiator turned toward camp to take rest before returning in few hours to assume same task at different post.

Guard duty was well suited to Nasir. He was comfortable remaining idle for many hours while retaining attentive mind throughout entire duration. He could occupy his mind with ease without sacrificing attentiveness to surroundings. He could also identify sounds of nature from that of man quickly even absent talent of hearing unspoken words, the skill only enhancing his affinity for task.

He usually allowed his mind to wander so as to work through thoughts plaguing him. Ability to settle mind was crucial to his maintained control and while he was never close to action absent careful consideration he did rely upon clear mind to ensure his abilities did not overwhelm him. It was lesson well learned after weakness of his mind while injured allowed so many thoughts to penetrate him that he wished to never again experience and controlled mind was key to success in such desire.

He was about to consider conversation shared with Gannicus when movement upon path as curve dozens of strides away gained his attention. Gripping the bow correctly in his right hand – the red cloth wrapped about his wrist working well as protection against string striking skin while he yet learned use of weapon – as he drew an arrow from quiver and readied it in position to be drawn. While he held forward most position of guard, there were some who had ventured further to make attempt in finding more food to replenish dwindling supplies. Unspoken words remained silent though so he could not make identity from that.

Few moments of tension passed until a single man came into view and Nasir nearly dropped his weapon as he recognized the one approaching.

It was the Syrian gladiator Ashur.

What purpose did that man have here now?

If it had been any other, Nasir would have not hesitated in striking down the enemy, yet this man’s actions against those within rebellion made it seem wrong for death to come by hands of one not wronged by his devious actions.

The elder Syrian was not yet aware of Nasir’s presence as his eyes were lowered to watch path. Now that he stood closer Nasir could hear how the man's mind churned with a myriad of thoughts. He had come with expectation of death, regardless of message of compromise. Nasir expected naught else for all the man had done, though Ashur’s confusion as to how he fell from Glaber’s favor was shared by the former body slave.

Disregarding confusion with ease – current plight did not erase all the man’s treachery – Nasir drew line taut and aimed arrow to Ashur’s body. He need not be the experienced shot Mira had been to fail in hitting target at this distance. “Halt there or step no more,” he gave command and Ashur’s head rose in surprise at his voice. Eyes looked to arrow trained upon him and he lifted his hands in show of submission.

“I come with message of peace for Spartacus. I bear no weapons, only words,” Ashur soothed.

“By claim of those bearing Batiatus’ brand, your words hold greatest danger,” Nasir replied as he allowed some slack into bow so as to not tire his muscles from tension he was unaccustomed to. Ashur’s eyes narrowed and Nasir knew he held no expectation of being recognized so when he did not know the younger man before him. If he had not laid eyes upon the gladiator within the mines he might not have recognized him by words alone, but that was of no concern now.

“You know of me?” he voiced question.

“Actions against those you called brother have been revealed to those who oppose the man you serve. Tell of message and I will determine value.”

Ashur gave hesitation for many moments, unsure of if he should give revelation to any other than Spartacus. Nasir realized after a few short moments why the man truly hesitated: he held belief that none who stood with rebellion would see value in offer to be made and Ashur held out for possibility of returning with answer as only salvation. He had also taken note of Nasir’s relaxation as indication of an unwillingness to follow through with threat of death.

“You believe silence to any other than Spartacus to save your life,” he gave statement as accusation, holding no care that he was speaking upon thoughts of the other man rather than spoken words. “You stand wrong, for I am responsible for safety of this position and earned place through proof of capability.”

Ashur’s hands dropped to his side as he appeared to find amusement with Nasir’s declaration.

Irritation at the man’s dismissal of him for reason of his appearance not being that of warrior rose and Nasir acted upon such emotion absent consideration of consequence. Pulling arrow to cheek, Nasir took quick aim and released shaft from grip, reaching to quiver in same smooth motion to draw another ready. The arrow flew exactly as intended and passed just over the man’s shoulder.

”Fuck!” Ashur exclaimed as he dropped to one side. “Do you give no shit for people you defend?”

“Break words or arrow will find place within heart.”

“Glaber offers lift of title fugitivus from all if Spartacus surrenders to Rome’s judgment. I am to give offer and return with answer.”

It was his great command over emotions that kept Nasir from displaying his disgust at such foolish offer. No brand of fugitivus was not freedom, but removal of immediate threat of death. They would be returned to slavery and possibility of gaining masters who would punish them with position in manner that would make death seem blessing. Nasir instead drew string of bow tight – finding satisfaction in panic rising in Ashur’s expression – before rising to aim toward sky and released so it flew high above him. As they were not using fires at posts, this worked to signal to call for others to his position.

Ashur watched him in confusion as he lowered his weapon, though kept his hand near remaining arrows and knife in case the man chose foolish action and attacked him. “You will be provided escort to Spartacus. He shall choose your fate. Another will see you to him and will arrive soon.” Nasir would not abandon his post in case the gladiator was mere distraction from path for soldiers to bring assault.

Ashur did not respond but appeared to take in appearance of Nasir now that weapon was not raised toward him. Discomfort rose in Nasir at such scrutiny and he wished cloth covering head provided greater concealment. He had been likened to this man so often – not recently as he had proven to be so unlike Ashur – that he held fear that the man himself would see a thing shared between them.

After only brief pause Ashur spoke, his words not of common tongue but of language Nasir remembered yet had not heard in many years. “You are of my land.”

It was of surprise for Nasir to realize how greatly he had missed hearing Aramaic, though moment passed in knowledge of what atrocities this man’s words had caused those Nasir cared for. While he longed to speak language of his origin he did not wish to have it be Ashur to hear him speak so with understanding.

Ashur was not deterred from speaking by Nasir’s silence. “It has been many years since I have been able to speak language of our people. Last time was when kin fell in arena’s opening games years past. Yet time does not remove fond memory of home.” Ashur paused, as though to give opportunity for response to be given yet Nasir remained silent. “You are not of the ludus nor were you house slave within the villa of Batiatus. I would know how you came to stand by rebellious shit Spartacus. Did he take life of man you called Dominus and now you serve him as you would Rome?” Another pause passed unfilled. “Are you of such disgrace that you betray one you owe allegiance to for keeping you among living that you did nothing to keep your master safe?”

Nasir nearly replied to such accusation. He had been instilled at young age value of loyalty and seeing that all who wronged him saw retribution equal to pain received. It was belief that was instilled in all of Assyria and was integral belief of the people of that land. It had been part of reason he had attempted to kill Spartacus though he had only realized so when he began to understand difference between Tiberius and Nasir. His dominus had raised him and ensured his life so he had earned retribution when Spartacus led attack that ended the Roman’s life. Nasir had made attempt to see the loss honored regardless of what the man he knew as master deserved. To not do so would have been as Ashur accused: disgraceful to the Syrian’s heritage and he yet held pride in being of Assyria.

Sounds of steps approaching upon his back gained Nasir’s focus yet his eyes remained fixed upon Ashur. From direction of sound, he knew he would be within sight of rebel approaching yet Ashur would not be at first. “Nasir, what gave cause for signal?” the gladiator Lydon called out to him.

“I have messenger from Glaber for you to deliver to Spartacus. Would you see he makes it past guards?” Nasir gave as explanation. Lydon came closer behind him and let out curse when he recognized who he was to escort to rebel leader. “Send any man rested to relieve me of position.” He stepped to side of path and gave Ashur indication to move forward. The other man approached with caution, eyes fixed upon hand Nasir held ready to draw weapon.

As Ashur came within reach, Nasir grabbed the man’s arm just below bandage soaked with blood. Despite earlier hesitation, Nasir recalled how he had determined his life was no longer given direction by any other and if he felt desire to speak words he had been robbed of and have another hold understanding then he would.

His mouth formed Aramaic for the first time since being taken from his home and brother’s arms. “Assyria would know honor to see me returned, a thing you shall never know for your selfish ways.”

Ashur’s gaze – eyes dark as his own though such realization did not disturb Nasir as he thought it may – remained on him and his shock at being spoken to so suddenly and with such personal insult. Syrians held deep pride in their own and loyalty to each other ran deep. Perhaps Ashur had desired for such commonality between them to gain favor despite words against each other. For Nasir to shun Ashur so blatantly was of greatest insult for which the younger man felt no regret.

As Lydon pulled Ashur from Nasir, the young Syrian finally held understanding of why the gladiators had both clung to their hatred of Ashur at first meeting of one of the same land but also of how they had come to accept him once he stood proven man of honor. Ashur’s actions had never held honor, only loyalty to one he committed service to. The man had taken value that was to bind people together and had twisted it into grotesque meaning to suit his needs.

It was of no question that the two Syrians were in no manner comparable as Nasir had never misunderstood meaning of loyalty and gave it to those who earned it instead of those who provided greatest gain.

Nasir was not of like ilk to treacherous fuck Ashur, nor was he whore and slave as Roman master had forced him to believe. He was of Spartacus’ rebellion standing for freedom, able to wield sword with precision and bearing gift of knowing unspoken words. He was entrusted with tasks bearing survival of those he stood beside as earned through proof of capability.

He held and gave love to man of whom he would remain with for his remaining days, for he was certain no other could mean to him what Agron did.

He was the Syrian warrior Nasir.

* * *

It was nearly dawn of new day when rebels stood victorious upon steps of temple, cries of celebration yet echoing to peak of Vesuvius. Praetor Varinius had been struck down many days past, removing his threat of quickly taking up task of hunting rebels. Praetor Gaius Claudius Glaber, the man responsible for so much pain brought to them, lay dead just within temple where Spartacus had claimed his vengeance at long last. Countless Roman soldiers had fallen as well further ensuring danger was not imminent. With so many fallen, clothes, armor, and weapons would be plentiful for a great while.

Spartacus had seen them through impossible task yet again and Agron was uncertain of how his brother continued to defy odds against him with seeming ease. He had followed the Thracian in taking freedom, destruction of the arena, twisted plots against Glaber, and descent from mountain. He would continue to follow the man until Rome fell beneath righteous cause.

Looking to his side, to the smaller man standing there, he felt swell of pride. Nasir had fought absent hesitation and many Romans had fallen to the Syrian’s blade. Furthermore, no blood upon dark skin was of the freed man, a thing bringing great relief to Agron.

To again be at Nasir’s side also brought reminder of the many days atop Vesuvius and Agron realized how greatly he had missed presence of his heart. They had barely spoken because of responsibility claiming much of their time and attention. Agron had been required at his place next to Spartacus or leading Germans while Nasir’s list of duties only grew with taking on guard and with Mira’s death. To lose such constant company only accentuated how much time they shared together before state of readiness forced them apart.

Agron had been acutely aware of how he had been affected by Nasir’s absence. His conversations with Nasir had become a manner for his mind to process events and decisions to be made. Absent such means, he had begun to struggle in bringing thoughts to completion, reacting with greater haste as he had in the weeks following Duro’s passing. He did not regain seemingly endless anger yet he knew with certainty how he had found calm and balance through Nasir’s presence in his life. He had grown as a leader because of Nasir and the Syrian’s calm demeanor and considerate yet methodical mind.

And now that immediate threat had been diminished for some time, he could work with Nasir to ensure their duties did not keep them apart as it had when next pressed by Rome. He knew that Nasir’s performance during time upon Vesuvius would result in different manner of expectations being placed upon him.

The Syrian would be so much closer to finding his place in this life and so would find balance he had never known.

Agron would be at his side for each step his heart progressed to support him as needed.

Unable to keep from the smaller man any longer, Agron reached out to grasp Nasir’s. Dark eyes turned to him and a wide smile overtook Nasir’s face, the relaxed expression giving cause for Agron’s chest to constrict with emotion at such beauty. Nasir’s other hand lifted to touch Agron’s cheek, then moved to the back of the German’s neck and pulled their bodies together and Agron’s other arm wrapped around the slim waist to hold him close. As Nasir had been standing at topmost step with Agron one below, neither man was forced off-balance in order to press together so.

After a few moments of holding each other in such comforting manner – for there was no greater proof that they were safe than to be held by such warm arms and breathing body – Nasir pulled away but only enough to press lips together in brief kiss. Agron desired more at once but restrained himself until they could share affection in privacy.

Interruption came regardless as the two pulled from their kiss and touch of hand upon Agron’s shoulder gained their attention. Agron turned to face his closest friend and brother as Gannicus, Crixus, and Naevia approached. Other rebels continued expressions of joy and victory yet they were moving about each other to express relief of survived comrades.

Shifting position to stand upon same step as Nasir – returning them to normal height difference – and moving his arm yet about waist to rest across back of the Syrian’s shoulders to ensure his heart remained within his touch, he turned to face words Spartacus chose to break to bring rebellion to its next path.

He would not ignore how just having contact with Nasir calmed his mind and he knew serenity after battle as he had never before experienced.

Spartacus gave them both a smile that expressed his relief at how battle had resulted. The man was at last freed of shadow of unclaimed revenge for death of his wife and his delivery to slavery. Agron felt naught but relief at knowing his friend could act for rebellion alone instead of holding distraction of Glaber upon their heels. Further distraction was put to rest with Ashur’s death at Naevia’s hand, removing plague of the Syrian from the woman and Crixus alike.

“All fought well this night, yet now we must look forward to future of cause,” Spartacus brought attention to focus. He would not deny their elation at victory, yet tasks needed completion if they were to continue through the day with any order. “We must account for our losses so responsibility may be reassigned as soon as able. Danger of Rome is diminished for some time, though we must ensure we are not forced into position of defense as we had to upon Vesuvius.”

“Do you intend for us to remain here at temple?” Agron asked. Their eyes all looked about to take in state of yard and walls they had called home for many weeks. Ground and stone was stained with blood and every corner had been removed of rebel belongings and replaced with that of Romans. Such touch could be cleansed easily enough however some soldiers had fled from battle and therefore provided risk.

Spartacus hesitated in consideration of hazards against walls offering security and familiarity. “Any fleeing soldiers will be of little concern for now. We will remain here long enough to organize supplies gained and determine path to set upon.” He gave another short pause as he looked between the men and woman gathered about him, obviously sorting thoughts before giving further direction. “Naevia, would you take some to Vesuvius’ peak and regain supplies left there?” Naevia nodded understanding, her attention then split as she looked about rebels to determine who to involve in duty. “Nasir, will you give instruction in cleansing of the temple of the dead, then gather all you can find that may be of use to us from within soldier camp?” Such task would certainly take much of the day to complete, yet the Syrian stood as only one now within rebellion to have proven capable of organizing such level of activity that did not include weapon. The gladiators held tendency to overlook slight details that could cause entire process to crumble. “Agron, Crixus and Gannicus will join me in gathering our dead. We will see them prepared for pyre for their honored deaths.” The three gladiators lowered gaze briefly at grim task before them.

Each assignment, though given to one best suited – as it always was – bore challenge. The leaders would be faced with knowing of exactly who had been lost to the battle and it would be heavy task to know of friends no longer among them. Naevia and those going up Vesuvius would need to carefully organize how to collect not only supplies left behind, but Mira’s body would need to be carried down as well as she deserved pyre with all others fallen. Nasir would not only need to organize disposal of Roman bodies but also the claiming and sorting of supplies to now benefit rebels. He also held risk of encountering remaining enemies, bringing Agron concern of yet losing the Syrian after victory had been claimed.

As the others parted to set to task, Agron cupped dark skin of cheek to turn Nasir’s eyes upon him. Dark eyes communicated confusion as being stopped so. “Show care in task. I would not have injury gained by ill attention to threat of the living hidden among dead.”

Nasir gave him an amused grin, yet Agron recognized appreciation of care in gaze as well. Any other would have missed emotion’s display, however Agron was well attuned to recognizing Nasir’s subtle mannerisms. “If I am so foolish as to discard care of threat, I would deserve injury.” Agron felt amusement as well and smiled at his heart’s declaration. He knew Nasir would complete task with efficiency – as he did with all things – and would not allow mistake from any lending aid. He was the man perfectly suited to task. “As I intend to set Germans to clearing Roman camp, if they suffer wound from such inattention, insult is upon your kin.”

Nasir did not allow opportunity for response as he pulled from Agron’s touch and walked into crowd to begin giving instruction, his smaller stature allowing him to vanish among the throng of bodies with ease even with Agron’s height and place atop steps.

As Agron moved to join his brothers in completing task given him, he found his thoughts turning to all that had occurred in the few months since he had first laid eyes upon the Syrian.

He thought of how the younger man had appeared a boy among other freed slaves within that villa, hesitating to take sword in hand to face against the Romans who had enslaved him. Agron had been mistaken then, thinking the slave weak only to face eyes absent fear of death later the same night after attempting to kill Spartacus.

Following day’s events had taught Agron much of the man who had unexpectedly gained his attraction. Turning thoughts toward the first day the wild little Syrian had trained with Spartacus, Agron recalled how he held belief his attentions upon the smaller man was so rapt was for suspicion. He no longer stood the fool in such thoughts as he recognized that lust had risen within him even then, the physical appeal of the smaller man taking firm hold upon the German.

However, just as lust had swiftly risen within Agron for the Syrian, it had passed as well in deference to the unexpected fire of defiance which burned within one raised as house slave. Learning of what the smaller man stood capable of in those early days with the rebellion only called to Agron in manner he had never before experienced and could not oppose.

Their first words broken echoed through his mind and he realized how Nasir had always revealed more to him than any other.

Then just as he had been ready to dismiss the Syrian as uncaring of what they offered to him, the smaller man had again proven him wrong as he had taken up cause by saving the man he had made attempt to kill. Then true name had been given and the one Agron had grown to love had begun to emerge. Within those early days following Nasir’s joining of rebellion, Agron had learned not only of the Syrian’s quick mind, but also of his gentle heart and how he would risk life for what he held belief to be right. Such was proven when he went to mines to aid in rescue of Naevia.

Vision of Nasir against that tree, skin pale from loss of blood, near death from stab wound and burned skin was one that yet haunted Agron’s sleep. Knowing that the man he had grown so close to could pass from the world at any moment brought fear of loss imbedded into him from Duro’s death had made him realize and accept the depth of his care for Nasir. He held no doubts that feelings would have continued to grow between them absent wound hastening progress, yet he was uncertain if he would have taken chance in revealing his affections as he did. Nasir had yet concealed so much emotion and had been difficult to understand at times for his reticence.

Just as memory of Nasir mortally wounded would never leave him, sight of timid smile after kissing him for the first time came to mind often. It was the most honest expression the Syrian had yet given Agron to that time and it was that particular smile which had instilled Agron’s deep desire to forever witness joy and contentment upon the smaller man’s visage. It was the most beautiful emotion upon Nasir and always brought same emotion forth in Agron when witnessed.

Nasir had proven often depth of emotion he was capable of experiencing – likewise proving his measure of restraint over such emotions – from his wide smiles directed toward Agron to his grief over loss of friend Chadara. That night and days following had been difficult for both men as Nasir did not know what it was to experience loss and Agron had never cared for any so deeply as to desire supporting them through such experience. He did know with certainty how he never again would see such sadness in his heart’s eyes. He was, however, unlikely to see desire realized as they walked path defined by death and loss. Already they had seen more friends fall and Nasir had been forced to learn to endure through continued losses.

Weeks following death of Chadara though had seen Nasir emerge from remaining restraint against familiarity with others of rebellion. He had formed new bonds of friendship with other gladiators whom offered acceptance and even other freed slaves had been allowed to bear witness to one different than slave raised by Rome. With events such as addition of German warriors to their ranks, capture of Glaber’s wife and failed exchange which followed, and the attack of Roman soldiers leading them atop Vesuvius where the former body slave had taken tasks which affected safety of rebels Nasir had become a man greater than any had ever expected of him.

All one had to witness to see proof of such change was single look shared between the two men before Agron dropped down side of mountain. They did not break words of farewell or concern for safety of the other before Nasir had reported task completed to Spartacus and Agron had been called to position. Agron had merely met gaze of his heart and felt peace of mind at knowing with certainty that the man he cared so deeply for would not be struck down with such fire burning within. He had also recognized how Nasir did not experience the same fear he had known when Roman’s first attacked temple. They both knew they would find one another at battle’s end and would continue life shared.

They had come to the same place by different path, drawn together by force others would call will of the gods.

Agron breathed heavy sigh at realization of how much had been shared between them in such short span of time. Agron’s heart swelled with admiration for the man who held his heart as he had accomplished so much on own strength. He loved all that Nasir was and regardless of short time they had shared, it was certain that Agron could no longer even envision world absent the other man at his side.

The Syrian had grown from subservient body slave to intriguing rebel to skilled warrior and into Agron’s equal in all things.

There was certain to be struggles in their future, so deeply entwined in rebel cause as they were, yet as long as they remained together nothing could defeat the force their love had become.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the first fic in the Differing Words series is complete. This will be my first series and I already have the second installment, which will take place between the seasons, in the works.  
> I had some unexpected difficulty in finishing this fic. It was difficult in just where to finish off the fic but when I finished the scene between Nasir and Ashur (something that was planned since I first started working on this fic) I actually wanted it to end right there with the line of Nasir really being born as a warrior. Unfortunately it didn't feel completely right to not closure on the season for Agron as well so after a few days I was able to get out the second half of the chapter and I am pleased with how it turned out.  
> All in all, I am extremely proud of what I have created here and look forward to finishing off the second and third stories then letting my brain really go to town and work on another story that will probably be completely AU. Coming up with ideas for these characters is just so fun I can't leave it at this series.  
> The second story in the Differing Words series titled WORDS RESTRAINED is now being posted so check it out for more!  
> Thank you for all the feedback you have given as well as all the kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks as well as all those who just silently enjoyed the fic. I hope to hear from you all in some way and see you soon!


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